


And They All Lived Happily Ever After aka That Crazy Liona fic

by LastScorpion



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastScorpion/pseuds/LastScorpion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel+Lana OMGMENT2B4EVA!!!1!<br/>When I started writing this, they had never actually met onscreen.  But they'd be perfect together!  Also there's some Clex, and some plot, and it's probably all terribly heteronormative, but whatever.  The underage warning is because Lana and Clark are both 17 at the beginning of this fic, and both involved with older men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life

And They All Lived Happily Ever After  
a.k.a. That Crazy Liona Fic  
by LastScorpion

(Disclaimer &amp; Acknowledgments: "Smallville" and all its characters are owned by   
DC Comics and/or the WB and/or Millar &amp; Gough and/or Tollin &amp; Robbins.   
"Superman" was invented by Shuster &amp; Siegel. I don't own any of the characters.   
I'm just fooling around. Please don't sue. This goes drastically AU around the   
middle of season three. A million thanks to Dr. Science and the Red-Headed   
Firecracker for all their beta-reading help. All remaining errors and offenses   
against common decency are mine and mine alone.)

*********************  
*********************

Disgusted, Lionel threw aside the headphones. This amplification of the Belle   
Reve surveillance tape was no better than the rest. He resolutely did not regret   
the tampering that he'd ordered on his son's mind. It was for the boy's own   
good, after all. If Lex hadn't forgotten about that damn tenement fire, Lionel   
would have been forced to kill him.

Ah, well. As he and Morgan had discovered during their so-called childhood,   
there was more than one way to skin a cat. Lionel could afford to indulge this   
little (but potentially oh-so-important) hobby of his until the next day at   
eleven a.m., when there was a meeting in Metropolis that would demand his   
personal attention. What could he do in that time to find out more about Clark   
Kent?

Miss Sullivan was a dry well for the moment. Lionel had ensured that Gabe's   
financial troubles would manifest themselves gradually, allowing the girl's   
discomfort and guilt to work upon her conscience. She would tell him more in   
time.

Martha was a source he preferred not to tap at present. Since her baby's death,   
she seemed to be more or less a shell of her former self. Perhaps he maintained   
a tendresse for the woman. In any case, he would leave her alone if there were   
any alternatives.

Jonathan Kent was too unimaginative and, well, stupid to approach by any but the   
crudest means. Lionel preferred to save actual physical force for a last resort.

Who else even lived in this hick town? Ah. Lex's lovely business partner, Nell's   
nubile niece, the well-regarded Miss Lang. Her coffee shop was the one part of   
LexCorp that Lionel had not yet restored to its rightful place as a wholly-owned   
subsidiary of LuthorCorp. Lex's former attorneys had done a journeyman's job of   
tying up the property. The idea of that contract still made his blood boil. What   
the hell had the boy been thinking?

She'd lived within sight of the Kents' farmhouse from an early age, as well.   
Visiting Lana would kill two birds with one stone.

Excellent. Lionel secured the tapes and equipment in his personal safe and   
twirled the dial jauntily. It wouldn't do to keep the lady waiting.

***********

Lana hummed as she gracefully flitted through the Talon, refilling all the sugar   
dispensers. She liked to keep things neat and sweet!

The breakfast rush was over. Only a few customers lingered over their lattes.   
Lana made sure to smile brightly at them whenever they turned her way. Gotta   
keep the clientele happy!

Thanks to the Smallville High Work-Study Program, she had forty minutes before   
she had to get to class, and she wanted everything to be shipshape before Connie   
showed up for her shift.

The bell over the door tinkled. Lana was so happy she had made Clark install it   
for her! She turned towards the door with a warm smile of greeting.

***********

Lionel's limousine was seen less frequently in Smallville now that he had gotten   
over his blindness and, for the most part, returned to his rightful place in   
Metropolis. Lionel enjoyed the slack-jawed stares of the locals. He basked in   
their attention, relishing the feeling of their impotent anger and loathing.

Lionel commanded his driver to wait and strode masterfully into the coffee shop.   
The shop's door swung closed behind him with an irritating tinkle. Lionel swept   
the room with his gaze. This strangely-decorated, poorly-designed cafe was the   
last vestige of Lex's ill-fated little business rebellion. He would decide how   
best to crush it after getting to know the proprietress, and pumping her for all   
that she could give him on Clark Kent.

Ah, the proprietress: Lionel identified the young lady holding a sugar canister   
as Lana Lang. She turned big, brown eyes up to him at the sound of the door's   
bell, smiling and wrinkling her nose appealingly.

Lionel instantly lost his train of thought. Suddenly, for no good reason, he   
wanted this attractive young creature for his own -- to the devil with young Mr.   
Kent, and to the devil with the Talon!

After the wedding, it would belong to him anyway.

***********

"You're what?" Chloe exclaimed, spewing milk across the lunchroom.

"I'm engaged!" Lana confided. Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded a couple of   
times.

"To Lionel Luthor?" Chloe squawked in disbelief.

Lana's face crumpled, and she looked at Chloe reproachfully. Chloe knew that   
look. In about five minutes, maybe less, Lana would start getting really, really   
pissy. "I thought you'd be happy for me!" Lana began.

Chloe knew that her only hope was to say something like, "Lana, I'm really happy   
and excited that you're going to drop out of high school and marry Lionel   
Luthor, who is not, in any way, the devil. Please, tell me all about your color   
scheme and what theme you want me to plan for the shower." She tried, opening   
and closing her mouth silently once or twice, but just couldn't bring herself to   
do it. Chloe abandoned her lunch and fled.

***********

"She's what?" Clark exclaimed, sinking into a chair. It creaked alarmingly.

"Engaged to Lionel Luthor!" Chloe repeated, walking agitatedly around the Torch   
office. "She just now told me in the lunchroom!"

Clark shook his head. "That can't be right. There must be some sort of   
explanation. Maybe he's using mind control, or some sort of kryp-- I mean,   
meteor rock derivative on her."

Chloe gave him a disgusted look, and he shrank in his chair. Ever since their   
little conversation, Chloe had basically agreed to accept rigidly defined areas   
of doubt and uncertainty about his origins. He really could use the word   
'kryptonite' around her, and tell her that was the real name for the meteor   
rocks. He trusted her not to push, because she'd said she wouldn't. It was still   
hard though, and he appreciated the fact that she satisfied her understandable   
anger with looks, instead of whacking him with a big kryptonite bat. He knew   
that, somehow, he'd have to convey that appreciation to her. Preferably soon.

She stopped glaring at him and resumed pacing around the room, looking   
genuinely worried about Lana. "Lana's always been the Virgin Queen of   
Smallville High, but if you look at her family, this really isn't that out of the   
question. You know what people always said about Nell, and ever since it turned   
out that Henry Small was Lana's biological dad, it's been pretty plain that Laura   
Lang wasn't all that different."

"Her Great Aunt Louise, too," Clark added, remembering the rush his father had   
felt, and the fatal love quadrangle there.

"How do you know all this obscure Smallville history?" Chloe asked in an   
exasperated voice.

Clark panicked a little and shouted, "Hey look! A hummingbird!"

"What? Where?" Chloe asked automatically. Her blonde hair fluffed as she   
whipped her head around to look out the window; then she fixed him in another   
tight-lipped look of mercifully short-lived rage.

"Um. It's gone now. I'm an obscure Smallville guy? I mean, my dad's family's   
lived here forever, and...."

"Okay." Clark felt relieved when Chloe decided that was good enough. Dang! He   
really had to tell her. She'd kept the secret of where he was all summer, and   
that really, really wasn't going to be the convincing argument when Dad flipped   
out about her knowing everything.

"Anyway," Chloe went on, "Lana's female relatives seem to have a demonstrated   
streak of slut and/or gold-digger, so I guess this shouldn't be a surprise.   
She's seventeen, and we're all dumb at seventeen."

"I thought that was 'grand at seventeen.' Sorry." (Lex had all of Cary Grant's   
movies on DVD.) Clark ducked his head to hide from Chloe's angry glare. He was   
a little surprised it didn't set anything on fire.

"Well, you can't deny that it's dumb to get involved with Lionel Luthor! Even if   
he is the richest man in Kansas, and one of the richest in the country!"

"You really think Lana wants him for his money?"

Chloe gave him another look, one that made him understand that he was a   
small-time hick with no idea of how the world worked. How could she say so   
much without actually saying anything?

Chloe resumed pacing. "Which would be fine, I mean to each her own and   
everything, but this is Lionel Luthor we're talking about!"

"And he's the devil." It was nice when Chloe and he were completely in agreement   
about something.

"Exactly. So what are we going to do?" Chloe sat down. They both thought for a   
while in silence.

"Do you suppose Lex knows yet?"

***********

"You look nice, Dad. What's the occasion?"

"Ah, Lex! Just in time. Help me with my tie."

Lex did up his father's bow tie for him, carefully staying to one side so Lionel   
could continue to study his reflection in the full-length hall mirror. "I   
repeat, Dad, what's the occasion?"

"I'm going out."

"So I deduced from the tux. I didn't know there were any big charity galas   
tonight."

"No, no," the older man said, critically studying the final necktie effect in   
the mirror. "This is a personal outing."

Lex smirked. "Anyone I know?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Lex had just time enough to realize that that was   
his father's triumphant smile, and he would have been better off not to ask,   
before Lionel crowed, "Your business partner, Miss Lang."

Lex was genuinely startled, and didn't manage to hide it. "You're going out with   
Lana? You haven't even spoken to her since she was ten! When the hell did this   
happen?"

Lionel's smirk trumped Lex's every time. "This morning, in what shall soon be my   
coffee shop. Such a charming girl. I've asked her to marry me."

Lex had thought he was startled before, but that was nothing compared to this.   
"You're marrying Lana Lang? She's only seventeen! You dated her Aunt Nell, for   
God's sake! This is...." Words failed him.

"Now, Lex, calm yourself." Lionel patted Lex on the cheek in an offensive   
manner. "You really need to lighten up, son."

Lionel grabbed his walking stick and swept magnificently out to the limo.

Lex's head hurt. He went into his office and lay down on the sofa.

***********

Say what you like about Clark (Big. Dumb. Freaky. Terrible fashion sense.) Chloe   
thought, pulling up to the mansion's gravel driveway. He sure knew how to act   
once action was indicated. He was not a guy to just shilly-shally around. As   
soon as it occurred to Super Farm Boy that Lex might not know about Lionel and   
Lana (Chloe suppressed a shiver) he headed on over, barely pausing long enough   
for Chloe to grab her jacket and keys.

Clark didn't even knock. "Lex!" he bellowed, charging into the mansion's   
entryway. No servants bothered to try to stop him. Chloe wondered exactly how   
much time Clark spent here, anyway. Clark hesitated for a moment at the stairs,   
then continued straight on to the office. "Lex!" he called again. Chloe noticed   
that he said it like he'd seen the Luthor heir, even though it was before he   
pushed open the door.

Sure enough, Lex was there, lying on the heavy leather couch, looking pale and   
interesting, with his hand over his eyes. Chloe couldn't help feeling a little   
sorry for him, even though she still officially hated him for firing her dad.

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed again. He rushed to the sofa and knelt beside it. His   
voice sounded absurdly tender and concerned as he said, "Are you okay?"

Hmmm, Chloe thought.

Lex dragged his hand away from his eyes. "Clark. I'm fine. It's just a headache.   
I've been talking with my father." He let Clark help him up to a sitting   
position.

Hmmm, Chloe thought again.

"So you know. That he's engaged to Lana." Clark let his big hand linger on Lex's   
shoulder even after Lex was fully upright.

Hmmm, Chloe thought for the third time. So that's how it is. Well, he is kind of   
gorgeous, even though I still have to hate him.

"So that's real," Lex mused softly.

"Huh?" Clark asked.

"Oh. It just, um, it seemed so unlikely that I thought maybe I hadn't heard Dad   
correctly."

Chloe plopped down onto the sofa beside him. "Well, if you heard him wrong,   
then so did Lana. She told me at lunch that she's engaged to Lionel Luthor."

"This can't be good," Clark added.

"I can't believe I'm going to have a stepmother younger than my b-- I mean a   
stepmother who's younger than I am."

Clark was looking at Lex with big cow's eyes. Jeez, Chloe thought.

"The question is," she said, "what are we going to do about it?"

***********

"That really is the question, isn't it?" Lex responded, running his hand over   
his bare scalp. It was a nervous gesture, an obvious tell; he really had to stop   
doing that.

"We can't just let Lana marry him," Clark said. He hauled himself up and sat on   
the couch next to Lex, opposite Chloe. It was nice to have him near. If Chloe   
hadn't been there, Lex would have laid his aching head down on Clark's broad   
shoulder.

"Technically, you know, she's old enough to marry whoever she wants." Chloe   
sounded like she was trying hard to grant people the benefit of the doubt.

"Whomever," Lex corrected absently. "What does he want with Lana?" he   
wondered out loud. "He said they met at the Talon -- what was he doing there,   
anyway?"

"Well," Chloe said thoughtfully, "he could've...." Suddenly Chloe broke off, biting   
her lower lip. "You know what? I don't know why I should tell you anything.   
You're the guy who fired my dad! C'mon, Clark." She stomped to the doorway,   
looking meaningfully at her classmate.

"What? Chloe!" Clark exclaimed, looking anxiously from Lex to Chloe and back   
again.

Chloe continued glaring at him. She was making some subtle little fluttering,   
beckoning motions with her hands, held close to her sides.

Clark obviously didn't notice them.

"She's right, Clark," Lex said, hoping he understood Chloe's subtext. "You guys   
should leave." Lex stood and hauled on Clark's arm a little. Clark, of course,   
didn't budge. He continued to gape at Lex and Chloe, confused. Chloe rolled her   
eyes and looked exasperated. Lex looked into Clark's big, baffled eyes and   
smiled. Never in a million years would he have guessed he'd fall so hard for   
anyone so dumb. "I'll walk you two to your car. Outside."

A light dawned on Clark's face. "Oh!" he said.

Out near Chloe's car, probably clear of Lionel's possible listening devices,   
Chloe said, "We so need to talk. Where?"

"I guess the Talon's out these days," Lex said quietly. He wished it didn't hurt   
when he lost things to his father. He tried to tell himself he'd never liked the   
Talon much anyway.

"There's the Farmer's Market in a couple of days," Clark suggested.

"Too long to wait. Fordman's, in two hours," Chloe decided. "I need a new   
sweater anyhow, and there's no way he'd have bugged Fordman's."

"Yeah," Clark agreed.

"I'll see you there," Lex promised. He went back into the mansion to put a cold   
cloth on his head and lie down for twenty minutes.

***********

Lana was so keyed up that she practically effervesced. For the first time ever,   
she appreciated all the time and effort her Aunt Nell had put into teaching her   
how to dress and make herself up for formal occasions. Lana owned more long   
gowns than anyone else at Smallville High, and it had always seemed like such a   
waste that there were so few occasions for wearing them. Even when she'd been   
Whitney's girl, there hadn't been that many dances and awards ceremonies to   
attend.

This was what that was all for, she thought. Poor dear Whitney, upper-classman,   
football hero -- he was just practice, and her short-lived relationship with   
solidly lower-middle-class Clark Kent had really been some weird detour.

Lana remembered in ninth-grade English, the class had read a nineteenth-century   
novel in which the heroine "vowed to sell her honor dear." It turned out in the   
classroom discussion that everybody else thought that meant she was planning to   
use the jeweled dagger mentioned in the previous chapter to try to fight off the   
villain when he came to rape her. Lana had been happy that she hadn't mentioned   
her interpretation, that the girl was going to make sure that she got as many   
presents and things from the man as possible before she gave herself to him.

Lionel Luthor was the real thing -- rich, worldly, distinguished, and undeniably   
a little dangerous. He was damn near irresistible, and he'd already proposed. If   
she didn't mess this up, she might make a very good thing out of it -- better   
than Nell had ever managed.

The doorbell rang downstairs.

Lana studied her reflection and rearranged one last lock of hair. With a knowing   
chuckle, that she'd never used before, she vowed to sell her honor dear.

***********

By the time Clark finished a few chores back at the farm and made it over to   
Fordman's, Chloe already had three items folded over her arm.

"Hey, Clark," she greeted him, displaying the top sweater from the pile. "What   
do you think of this one?"

"It's nice," Clark answered without giving it much thought. "Is Lex here yet?"

"Not yet." Chloe didn't get all huffy with him for his lackadaisical   
sweater-appraising performance like Lana always did. He hated being around   
Lana when she was shopping.

Lex sauntered in. Clark was glad to see he was looking a little bit better.

"Not the green," Lex said to Chloe.

Chloe didn't look at him, but she did put the green sweater back. "I really am   
mad at you about my dad," she said.

"His performance reviews were terrible."

"Bullshit!" Chloe spat out, turning on him. "Dad ran that plant while you were   
gone, and he did a great job! He kept LexCorp from falling apart!"

Lex swallowed. "That's what I...." he whispered, then swallowed again.

"So," Clark said, feeling obscurely compelled to rescue Lex from an obviously   
uncomfortable subject (Too bad you didn't rescue him from getting his brain   
fried! Clark berated himself), "What are we going to do about Lana and your   
dad?"

Fordman's considerately supplied chairs scattered throughout the women's   
clothing section for husbands, boyfriends, and kids to sit in while their   
associated females shopped. Lex sank into a chair and ran his hand over his   
head. "Well, we can warn her, I guess."

"Bullshit!" Chloe cut him off again. (That seemed to be her new favorite word.)   
"Lana already knows what everybody knows about Lionel Luthor -- probably   
even more, because of her aunt. And even if you were willing to share some of his   
not-for-publication shenanigans," Chloe shot Lex a steely glare, and Clark   
winced for him "she probably wouldn't believe you!"

"She's not the only one who doesn't take it well, being warned off a guy," Clark   
put in diffidently, not sure if referring to Ian and Justin would get his head   
bitten off or not.

"Exactly." Whew. "So warning her is obviously pointless." Chloe stood directly   
in front of Lex, blocking him from leaving his chair. She stared down at him   
with something that didn't look exactly like hostility. "I was serious about my   
dad, Lex. It is a complete load of crap to say that he didn't do a good job, and   
if his performance reviews said that, then they're...."

"Forged, altered after the fact," Lex concluded for her. "I thought I   
remembered...." He let the sentence dwindle away again, and looked pale and   
unhappy.

"Remembered what?" Chloe prompted.

Lex swallowed, closed his eyes, and swallowed again. Finally he opened his eyes   
and said, "Off the record, Chloe."

She looked at him for a long moment without blinking, and finally nodded.   
"Okay."

"I...." Lex started, and then he stopped again. Clark put a hand on his   
shoulder, even though Lex always said they shouldn't touch each other in   
Smallville in public. Lex leaned his head gratefully against Clark's arm for a   
second, and Clark knew that Lex was in bad shape.

"You know what?" Chloe said suddenly. "I'm gonna go try these on. You pull   
yourself together and get your story straight, and I'll be back in ten minutes.   
Maybe fifteen."

***********

It turned out to be more like twenty, but Chloe found a really nice brown   
cowl-neck sweater with a very understated burnt sienna sort of a pattern to it   
that she liked a lot and was on sale. When she was done trying things on and had   
paid for the cowl-neck, she found Clark and Lex again. They were sitting on   
Fordman's one sofa, between the women's clothing section and the shoe section.   
Lex was leaning his head on his hands, and Clark was looking at him just exactly   
like a worried boyfriend.

How come everybody doesn't know they're an item? Chloe wondered.

"I'm back!" she said, plopping down between the two boys with her shopping bag   
in her lap. "What's the story?"

"I'm not sure this is the time or the place..." Lex began.

"Bullshit," Chloe retorted cheerfully. "They'll be closed in twenty minutes, and   
it's a school night. There is nobody here right now except for the bored kid who   
needs to close up. He's on the cell to his girlfriend and will not come round   
here right now. Spill."

Lex lifted his head. "It's vitally important that none of what I tell you...."

"I'll take your secrets to my frickin' grave. I swear."

"Okay." Lex was silent again for almost long enough for Chloe to get mad at him   
again, but then he began.

"There's a lot that I don't remember very well -- a lot of things which I'm not   
sure whether they ever happened or not."

"I thought you said you only lost seven weeks!" Clark put in miserably.

"I lost seven weeks completely, but there are -- everything else has holes,   
fuzzy places, and there are some things that didn't happen, that never happened,   
can't have, that I remember quite clearly." Lex swallowed again, and went on in   
a quieter voice. "I really am insane, or really was. It's just as well that Dad   
put me in ... there."

"What do you mean, you remember things that never happened?" Chloe asked.   
Clark just looked at Lex with a stricken expression on his face.

"When I was stuck on that damn island, marooned. I was alone; I know I was   
alone, and if I concentrate, I think I can remember it that way. But if I just   
think, if I just remember without trying so hard, it's -- well, it's different."

"Different how?" Chloe persisted. Clark was looking like he'd just run over a   
puppy, but Chloe wanted to get Lex's story out of the way before she started   
worrying about what Clark's problem was.

Lex looked down and took a deep breath. "It's like I wasn't alone."

Chloe was about to demand some more clarification when suddenly the intercom   
spoke. "We'll be closing in five minutes. Please make your purchases now."

When Lex looked up again, he had his professional, grown-up, business face   
firmly back in place. Chloe hadn't realized 'til then how broken open he'd   
become over the course of the afternoon. Now, although Clark still looked on the   
verge of something, Lex looked completely in-control again.

Before Lex could say anything, Chloe jumped to her feet. "Okay, guys, this isn't   
over."

"It's a school night," Clark interrupted weakly, but she quelled him with a   
glance.

"Oh, please. Like anybody expects you to stick to a curfew after last summer!"

Clark looked suitably abashed.

"On the other hand, my dad seems to feel all insecure since you fired him,"   
Chloe went on, glaring at Lex, "and I'll have to sneak out. I'll meet you two at   
Riley's field at 3 a.m."

"Riley's field?" Clark asked nervously.

"Is that where I got you down from that cross thing, when I first came to   
Smallville?" Lex asked.

Chloe was surprised. "You were the scarecrow? How come I didn't know this   
before?" Clark hung his head and blushed. "Whatever, secret-keeping-boy. I'll   
see you two at three." She turned to go.

"Chloe!" Lex called after her. She stopped and let him catch up with her. "I'm   
sorry about your dad. I'd like to hire him back, but I'm afraid that would   
probably be dangerous, for all of us. If somebody...."

"Probably your dad," Chloe interrupted.

Lex nodded. Chloe realized that he knew his father was evil, and felt sorry for   
him again. "Here," Lex said. "It's a gift. That way there's no record-keeping or   
anything else for my dad to track down. I'm almost sure that my petty cash   
requirements don't trigger any reports until they exceed five thousand." Lex   
handed her a neatly-rolled handful of cash. It looked like several thousand   
dollars.

"Lex!" Chloe was startled again. "I can't!"

"Please take it. I need someone to help me figure this out, and Clark's not   
exactly. Um. Well, I think it would be very helpful to have both of you, if I   
can. Plus, we can figure out how to help Lana. Maybe."

Urgently, in an almost-whisper to avoid being heard by the clerk, who was coming   
to shoo them out of the store, Chloe said, "You realize that Electro-Convulsive   
Therapy is only actually indicated for intractable severe depression, not   
hallucinations, right? I mean, even if you really were crazy, which it could   
have just been the isolation, ECT was not the thing to do to help you."

Lex smiled sadly at her. He knew. "I'll see you at three."

***********

Lionel had planned to stay in Metropolis, sending Miss Lang home to Smallville   
alone in the limo after the opera. Tomorrow's business meeting was important to   
LuthorCorp, and he wanted to make sure he'd be at his best.

But Lana had been so adorable at the opera, and at supper afterwards. She   
clearly hadn't the slightest notion of Italian, and Lionel was willing to bet   
that Smallville High's fine arts curriculum wasn't much, but her face had   
revealed such pleasure in the music, even as she read along the translation. He   
could see that she had a real feeling for what the composer and the performers   
were attempting to convey.

Lex had never appreciated opera, for all Lionel's teaching. Of course, Lionel   
himself had come to it late, without any of the educational advantages Lex had   
enjoyed. Perhaps it was better that way.

She'd enjoyed the supper, too -- chicken and champagne at the Fullerton. It was   
a favorite supper-spot among the Opera Circle crowd, and Lionel enjoyed the   
envious glances of his contemporaries as much as he enjoyed the vivacious   
prettiness of his young fiancee. She fit in there admirably well -- naive, but   
not too naive, well-enough-dressed, but not overdone. As seventeen-year-old   
women to take to the opera went, she was perfect. Maybe he should have had a   
daughter at some point, Lionel thought, and was corrupt enough to find that   
thought amusing rather than deeply, deeply disturbing.

"I've had the best time, Lionel," Lana sparkled at him.

"I'm glad."

Lana laughed a little, lightly, and looked down. "I can't believe I have school   
tomorrow."

"We'd better get you home then. It's getting late." Lionel helped her with her   
wrap, and she smiled up at him endearingly. It was then that Lionel knew he'd be   
taking the helicopter back into the city in the morning. He couldn't give up   
three more hours in her presence, not if he didn't have to.

On the way back to Smallville, Lana sat close beside him, instead of across from   
him as she had on the way out. The delicate curve of her neck and the warm scent   
of her perfume beguiled the silence. She smelled of roses, and it took him back   
to his distant youth.

Morgan had always coveted the flash girls, fast and sharp-tongued, and he'd   
gotten them by the dozens once he and Lionel had begun to make their fortunes.   
Nell had tried to be that kind of woman, but her Smallville background made her   
simultaneously less appealing to Morgan and more attractive to Lionel.   
When he was young, Lionel had longed for the nice girls, the sweet and simple   
girls he'd watched but not really known at school. They'd been too high for him   
to aspire to before he'd begun his climb, too low for him to pay attention to   
once he'd achieved anything worth having. (Mistresses were neither here nor   
there.)

Lillian was the closest he'd ever come to what he'd always wanted; she had been   
a jewel, but she'd never worn rosewater.

Lionel only became aware that Lana had been humming a theme from the opera   
when she stopped and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I like your perfume."

She smiled at him. "It's rosewater."

***********

Lex had a strong desire, possibly not irrational, to be out of the mansion when   
Lionel got back.

Upon returning from Fordman's, he'd found out from the servants that the limo   
had been ordered for the Metropolis Opera House. That gave him an estimate of   
how long his father's absence might last. The opera would finish no earlier than   
ten; no one could drive a limousine from Metropolis to Smallville in less than   
two hours; he should be safe until at least midnight.

Lex was desperately tired. He decided to try again to get some sleep. Lately he   
had sometimes had the feeling that Lionel was coming into his bedroom at night   
and watching him. He always tried to pretend he was asleep when it happened.   
Sometimes the unseen presence left; sometimes he couldn't keep from opening his   
eyes eventually, and there was no one there. It was very disturbing. Perhaps if   
he tried to sleep while Dad couldn't possibly be there, it wouldn't happen.

Probably Dad would be gone until one or two a.m.; he might even choose to stay   
over in the city for tomorrow's meeting -- another meeting that Lex had not been   
invited to attend.

Sometimes he pressed the issue with his father, or just showed up; sometimes he   
couldn't seem to care enough to bother; sometimes he just wanted to stay as far   
away from Lionel as possible, and the hell with the business. LexCorp was gone   
anyway, and everything he'd put into it, even what he'd inherited from his mom,   
had become Lionel's property when Lex had been declared legally dead. It was all   
going to be straightened out, allegedly.

Lex had been declared legally alive enough to have his driver's license back,   
and the property was all supposed to be just a matter of time, legal   
formalities, etc. Lex had his own lawyers working on it, but they seemed to lack   
a certain zeal, and the judge was in no discernable hurry at all. Was it   
paranoia to think that Lionel had them all in his pocket, or was it just   
reasonable?

The alarm went off. Midnight already, and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Lex   
took a ragged breath and got ready to go meet Clark and Chloe, in the place   
where the sky had fallen on him the first time.

***********

Clark slept like a log until 2 a.m., woke instantly and completely (a Gift of   
sorts, though he never bothered to consult with his parents about it), and sped   
through all the chores he could think of.

Ever since Dad's heart attack, Clark had made a point of carrying more of the   
day-to-day load of the farm's work. If he tried to do too much or too many or   
too fast during the day, Mom or Dad would tell him to stop, or wait, or they'd   
want to help him. By waking up in the middle of the night and just plain doing   
stuff, Clark could avoid arguments and present his folks with a fait accompli.   
The only hard part then was to avoid blushing too hard when they made cracks   
about how "The Good Fairy's been here."

It was funny how they'd tell him not to do stuff, or to do it differently, if he   
asked or they saw him doing it, but if it was already a done-deal they'd just   
snark a little. Clark had noticed most people seemed to be like that. It was   
probably where that old saying came from, about it being better to ask   
forgiveness later instead of asking permission in advance.

Another good thing about the middle of the night was that there was no chance in   
heck that anybody would see him running too fast. Before Clark really had time   
to feel uneasy about going to Riley's Field, he was there.

The field was flat and empty, that dang scarecrow pole standing tall and obvious   
above a sea of fresh-plowed dirt. From the talk in town, Clark thought that all   
the big corn farmers were getting set to plant this week -- there wouldn't be   
any tender shoots to worry about trampling yet.

No one was there by the pole (Clark virtuously did not kick it over in passing)   
but a moment's look-round revealed a sharp European car parked off the edge of   
the road nearby. Lex.

Clark jogged over at Earth-normal speed to say hi. To his surprise, he found   
that Lex had the seat tilted back, and he was asleep.

Clark had only seen Lex sleeping once since he'd failed him so badly at Belle   
Reve. It happened right after Clark had been struck blind, and then miraculously   
recovered his sight. Clark had been so upset and relieved. He'd pressed Lex far   
beyond the level of intimacy he seemed comfortable with since the electroshock.

Clark had never been the aggressor with Lex before (or since), but he'd   
remembered how to do it from his Red-Kryptonite summer in Metropolis, and he   
was darn near crazy with worry and relief and (apparently) unrequited lust. He'd   
backed Lex up against a wall in the loft and had at him like a pro.

Within seconds, Lex had gone from an ineffectual "Clark! What the...?" through   
some inarticulate gasping sounds, and straight into the breathy moans. Shortly   
afterwards, after the frantic hands tangling in Clark's hair, and the   
shuddering, and the unconditional surrender to gravity and the sliding down to   
the floor, Lex had sighed, "Oh. So that was real after all."

Clark hadn't paid that much attention to Lex's words at the time -- he'd been   
too busy humping against Lex's leg like a horny teenager (which he was!) and   
getting really sticky, and sort of having the top of his head come off -- but   
now looking back he realized that Lex had thought their love affair might have   
been all in his head. It was really sad, and another thing to feel guilty about.

Lex had fallen asleep in Clark's arms that night, for the first time (probably   
the last, too, the way things were going.) Clark had carried him to the sofa   
without using any super-strength -- Lex had lost more weight in a month at Belle   
Reve than in a whole summer on a deserted island, and he didn't seem to be   
gaining it back, either. Lex had been so heavily asleep that Clark had worried   
he might have hit his head on the wall or something. He x-ray-visioned it, and   
the sight of Lex's poor battered brain was like a blast of cold water, driving   
all the happy lingering feelings out of Clark and sending them far, far away.

There was some swelling, and some bruised-looking places, and even a few little   
spots of blood. The worst was a twisted path of tissue that looked almost cooked   
\-- scalded, anyway -- leading from one temple to the other, inside Lex's head.   
The hurt places weren't fresh; he hadn't given Lex a concussion by molesting him   
that night. They were the injuries from the electroshock treatment that Clark   
could have stopped if he hadn't been such an idiot.

Clark had sat indecisively there next to Lex that night, watching Lex sleep and   
checking his brain out over and over again. After about an hour of heavy,   
stunned-seeming sleep, Lex had started to twitch a little. That lasted almost   
five minutes, with Clark not knowing whether to touch him or not, to let him   
sleep or wake him up. Then he'd awakened spontaneously with a raging migraine.

Lex had tried repeatedly to reassure Clark that it wasn't his fault, that it had   
nothing to do with what they'd done, but Clark had had to drive Lex home, and   
Lex had never let Clark drive him home before. Clark had decided not to do   
anything to Lex that Lex didn't start, ever again. To his dismay, that had meant   
nothing but fully-clothed hugs and kisses, and a certain amount of cuddling.

That had been weeks ago, and Clark hadn't seen Lex sleeping since, not even   
when he went by the mansion and watched him through the walls. He was kind of   
glad to see Lex was getting any sleep at all, although in his car by the side of a   
road in the middle of the night didn't really seem like the best place for it.

Clark let himself look inside Lex's skull again, and was comforted to see that   
it looked considerably better than it had all those weeks ago. Of course, Lex   
was a meteor mutant. Healing from stuff was his Gift. He shouldn't have to heal   
from stuff like this, though, Clark thought mournfully as he let his vision go   
back to normal. Clark should have protected him.

Clark was so entranced by watching Lex sleep that he didn't notice Chloe driving   
up until she honked the little squeaky horn of her Volkswagen. Lex shot upright   
like a startled rabbit, and Clark looked at Chloe reproachfully. She didn't seem   
to notice.

"Hey, guys!" she shouted at them as Lex got out of his car and set the alarm. "I   
brought a blanket!"

***********

"C'mon," Chloe said, throwing the old rolled-up blanket over her shoulder. Lex   
followed, looking extra cool and collected, like a cat does after you startle it   
or it does something foolish-looking. Clark tagged along behind.

Chloe spread the blanket on the flat bare ground next to the scarecrow pole.   
"This should be far enough from the cars, in case Mr. Luthor has them bugged,   
too. Here we'll stay until it all comes out, or until sun-up, whichever comes   
first. You boys might as well make yourselves comfortable."

Clark promptly sprawled over about half the available blanket. Lex folded   
himself neatly into an elegant reclining position, and Chloe plopped down   
cross-legged next to them. "I've been thinking," she began. "We could talk to   
Lana 'til we're blue in the face without convincing her of anything. And there's   
no point at all in trying to talk to Mr. Luthor."

"We need something to use against him. Knowledge is our only possible weapon,"   
Lex said.

"Exactly!" Chloe agreed.

"Unfortunately, he's disarmed me."

"You must have known something, found something out that was a threat to him,   
and that's why he locked you up and got your memory zapped."

"You don't think that my persistent hallucinations would have been sufficient? I   
had an imaginary friend on that damn island, and I murdered him with a knife."

"Well," Clark put in, "he can't have known about that, or else he wouldn't have   
had to have your security guard drug your whiskey to make you crazy."

"What?" the other two yelped.

"Didn't I tell you about that? Huh. Yeah, Darius was drugging your liquor. He   
didn't know who was hiring him to do it, he said, but it had to be either your   
dad or Morgan Edge, or both."

"Morgan Edge had already been dead for months by then, Clark," Chloe pointed   
out.

"No, he hadn't," Clark argued. "Lex and I both...." Suddenly Clark quit talking.   
He sat bolt upright, with much the same expression as a hound that has suddenly   
noticed a rabbit. "I'll be back," Clark said, and vanished.

***********

Upon arriving back in Smallville, Lionel dismissed the chauffeur. "You can put   
the car away in the morning, Geoffrey. I'll take Miss Lang home myself."

"Yes, sir," Geoffrey said, and they were completely alone together, for the   
first time.

Lana didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave the limo. She laid her head back   
against the leather and turned her gaze upon him. She was beautiful.

"Oh, Mr. Luthor," she began, stretching languid hands out to him.

"Lionel!" he corrected indignantly, and knew by her mischievous smile that she'd   
done it on purpose. Minx.

"Lionel," she purred.

He caught her hands and kissed them.

"Mmmm. I had the nicest evening. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," Lionel replied, raising his eyes to meet hers. The heat he   
saw there nearly matched his own. Lana smiled at him, slow and knowing.

Suddenly there was the most ungodly shrieking noise as the door and most of the   
roof on Lana's side of the car were torn away. Something huge and black filled   
the resulting empty space. Lionel tried to pull Lana away, but it grabbed her   
too, and pulled back. Lana's eyes were big and shocked -- she seemed to be   
paralyzed with fear.

"Goddammit, no!" Lionel cried as the thing pulled Lana half out of the car. He   
tightened his grip -- Damnation! His heavy walking stick was just a few feet   
away, but he'd have to let go with one hand to get it, and he'd never be able to   
keep hold of the girl with just one. He could see now that Lana's mysterious   
assailant had feathers, and glowing green eyes.

It was a giant mutant crow.

The crow let go for a second, and squawked in rage. Lionel was able to pull Lana   
a foot or so back into the ruined automobile, but then the monster struck again,   
getting a better grip. This time there was blood, and Lana finally screamed.

He wouldn't be able to keep her this way; he had to get a weapon. "Lana, hold   
onto me," Lionel commanded. "Don't let go!" Her arms convulsively tightened   
around his shoulders; he freed one hand and lurched backward for his cane. Got   
it!

Lionel got in a couple of awkward blows before Lana was nearly pulled away   
from him again; he had to drop the damn stick and use both hands to keep his   
hold. If this monster flew away with her, he knew she'd be lost to him forever!

The creature let go again; Lionel pulled Lana back to him with all his might.   
The crow's harsh angry screech rang out, but it didn't attack. Lionel retrieved   
his cane and surged out of the car, protectively between the monster and his   
Lana.

The crow had taken to the air. It was flying raggedly away, squawking as it went   
and struggling with what looked like a man in blue jeans and red plaid flannel.

Clark Kent.

Of course.

Lionel turned again to Lana, and flinched back at the sight of her wounds. God   
damn his squeamishness. Morgan used to laugh at him. Lex would seemingly   
never forgive him for the revulsion that had paralyzed him so badly after the   
meteor storm. Lana's eyes were closed though; she couldn't see his reaction. Her   
lower lip was caught tight between those perfect, pearly little teeth. She was being   
brave. Lionel could do no less. He took a deep breath and picked her up. She   
gasped but didn't cry out again. Lionel ignored the warm, sticky blood with all   
his might.

Lex's Porsche was closest, and faster than Lionel's Mercedes if that -- thing --   
got away from the Kent boy and decided to come back. Lionel had the   
windowpane popped and the car hot-wired in less than a minute. Just like riding a   
bicycle.

Morgan had taught him how to do that, too.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he told the girl as he strapped her in. "Stay with me."

"Mm hmm," Lana whimpered, eyes still screwed tight shut.

Lionel sped them towards the Smallville Medical Center.

***********

High in the air, slaughtering the giant crow, Clark noticed the car zooming   
away. He was glad that Lionel and Lana were gone, so he wouldn't have to worry   
about them getting hurt during the fight.

It was actually kind of refreshing, fighting a monster that wasn't also a   
person. He'd already discovered that the thing's head was all kryptonite-y, so   
he couldn't wring its neck like a giant chicken. It was sure to die soon if he   
just kept battering it, though, even if he did have to keep his distance from   
its head.

There you go! Dead giant crow!

Then he realized he was about five hundred feet above the ground.

Whoops.

Clark plummeted like a cartoon coyote.

***********

Clark had just disappeared. Into thin air. That couldn't be right, could it?

"Wow," Chloe said, green eyes round with astonishment. "I've never seen him do   
that before. Heh. I guess usually he waits 'til I turn my back."

Okay, Chloe saw it, too. Good. Lex licked his lips, tried to sound casual. "So.   
He vanishes like that a lot?"

"Usually it's a 'turn around and he's gone' thing, but yeah."

There was silence for a moment before Chloe spoke again. "Since we're off the   
record here and all, how long have you two been together?"

Lex tried to remember, and couldn't. It hurt quite a bit, and he probably didn't   
do a very good job of keeping that out of his voice. "I don't remember," he   
admitted.

The quick shocked look of sympathy on Chloe's face was almost enough to make   
him get up and leave right then, but Clark wasn't back yet, and he needed the girl's   
help too much to insult her.

It was terribly cold.

Chloe must have noticed him starting to shiver -- she twitched a corner of the   
old blanket over his shoulder even as she put on a businesslike face and started   
thinking out loud again. Lex quashed his embarrassment at being mothered by a   
high school girl, and forced himself to pay attention. Dammit, he used to be   
good at planning.

"Okay. Let's assume you found something out that Lionel didn't want known. He   
got you put into the mental institution -- Clark says by having you drugged --   
which would discredit you, but apparently that wasn't enough. I did a little   
research at home while I was waiting for Dad to fall asleep, and I found out   
that ECT is very effective at inducing amnesia and making patients more   
compliant. Even some of its strongest proponents seem to think that it works   
mainly by destroying 'unneeded' or 'bad' brain cells."

"Compliant," Lex muttered. "I'm surprised he didn't use it on me before."

"Another argument in favor of the theory that you found something out about him   
that he needed forgotten. That day at the Kents', when Clark did that whole   
'deny his father and no longer be a Capulet' thing, and took off with you, you   
were saying that you'd found evidence linking your dad and Morgan Edge, and   
some crime which you didn't specify."

Lex was confused by Chloe's rapid-fire explanation. "What?" he asked. "Capulets?   
What are you talking about?"

"You were raving, and you were at the Kent Farm, and Mr. Kent was telling Clark   
to turn you over to the authorities, and you were insisting that he had to   
choose, and he chose you."

Lex could hardly believe it. "I wish I could remember that."

Chloe flashed him a grin, sympathetic yet somehow not irritating. "It was pretty   
damn impressive, I'll give him that. I don't know why everybody doesn't know   
about you two."

Lex swallowed. He didn't want to mess up Clark's life like that if he could help   
it. "We should be more careful, I guess."

"Don't tell me; tell Clark. Anyhow, you were also singing lullabies to an old   
horse blanket that day, so I pretty much dismissed the whole thing, but there's   
no real reason why that couldn't be the fact you'd discovered. Some unsavory   
connection between Metropolis's biggest businessman and Metropolis's biggest   
crime boss would be big, and something Lionel would want hidden, and not   
unlikely at all."

There was a sudden whooshing sound, and Clark was back. He looked rather   
disheveled.

"Where have you been?" Chloe demanded, moving over to make room for Clark   
on the blanket again. Lex admired her aplomb -- she was taking Clark's suddenly   
obvious extranormal abilities very casually.

"I heard -- hey, can I be off the record too? You're not going to write up   
everything I tell you on the Wall of Weird, or put it in the paper?"

Chloe whapped Clark lightly on the kneecap. Clark didn't even blink. "Of course   
not, doofus! I'm your friend; all you ever had to do was ask! Besides, who kept   
your location secret all damn summer?"

Clark ducked his head and looked imploringly at Chloe. Lex knew he'd be   
mollified by that expression; apparently it worked just as well on her. "Sorry,"   
Clark said. "And thanks. I really want to tell you guys everything. Just please   
don't let my folks know I told you, and don't tell anyone else."

"Done," Chloe promised.

Clark turned the big puppy eyes on Lex, and he felt himself nodding without even   
intending to. "You know I'd do anything for you, Clark."

"I don't know if you'll be able to forgive me, Lex. Once you said you wouldn't,   
but then it seemed like maybe you did forgive me later. I'm just going to tell   
it all, and hope for the best. You know I'm sorry, and you know I love you, and   
I hope that'll be enough."

Lex nodded again. He didn't know what to say.

"Oh!" Chloe exclaimed. "Before you get started -- which I'm dying to hear all   
about it -- but Lex and I think that he must have found out something connecting   
Lionel to Morgan Edge and some crime. He kept saying that he had evidence   
about the two of them, and that was just before Lionel got Lex's memory, um,   
damaged."

"Morgan Edge was a real bad guy," Clark said as he settled down between Lex   
and Chloe. He radiated heat like a stove. Lex wanted to cuddle into him to keep   
warm. After a minute he decided he might as well -- there didn't seem to be much   
point trying to keep things secret from Chloe tonight, and no one else was   
around. "I think that Perry White knew something about Lionel and Edge, in the   
olden days."

"That's a place to start then," Chloe said resolutely. She looked cold, too. Lex   
bit back his jealousy when Clark matter-of-factly put an arm around each of   
them. He was just keeping her warm. He loved Lex. He'd just said so.

"Okay. I trust you guys. You've both kept my secrets sometimes when it would've   
been a lot easier not to, even if you don't remember it. I'm gonna start at the   
beginning, and end with tonight." Clark was silent for a long moment. Then he   
began, in a deep calm voice that Lex wasn't sure he'd ever heard him use before.

"In 1989, the worst meteor storm in human memory rained down death from a   
clear blue sky. Kansas wasn't the only place that people died. Dozens died here,   
but millions died on a far-off planet that its people called Krypton. There was   
only one survivor...."

***********

Lana woke up in an all-too-familiar hospital bed, with an all-too-familiar IV in   
her arm, and an all-too-familiar feeling that she'd be in a lot of pain as soon   
as the drugs wore off a little.

Lionel Luthor, sitting at her bedside lost in gloomy thought, was unfamiliar and   
new.

"Hey," she greeted him softly.

His head snapped up, startled. The most wonderful delighted smile spread over   
his face. Lana decided she wanted to see that smile a lot.

"Hey yourself," he rasped. Despite the smile, he looked tired. "How do you   
feel?"

"It's a little hard to tell," she confided. "What does the doctor say?"

"Flesh wounds." Lionel cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times, visibly   
pulling himself together, and then he looked better. "You had to have quite a   
few stitches, I'm afraid, but no bones broken, and no tendon damage. You'll be   
fine."

Lana gave him a smile too. She was glad the painkillers enabled her to not have   
her face all scrunched up while he was here looking at her. "Thank you."

He ventured a gentle hand to stroke her hair. "I don't know what I would have   
done if..." he began. Lana didn't want him to dwell on that, so she cut him off.

"Was that a giant mutant crow?" she asked, as indignantly as she could.

It worked. Lionel didn't look so worried. "Yes, it was. Only in Smallville." His   
rueful little snort of scornful laughter was very endearing.

"I should tell Chloe. She can put it up on her Wall of Weird. That reminds me,   
what time is it? Do I need to call school?"

"I'll have someone from the hospital call them for you."

"Thank you," she said again, sincerely. "I'm so glad you're here."

At that, he looked a little upset again. Lana waited for him to say whatever it   
was he wanted to say, leaning her head into his absently stroking hand like a   
cat. Finally he spoke. "I have a business meeting in the city this morning, but   
I'd be glad to cancel it...."

"No! Don't. Please go to your meeting. I'll be fine." Lana nodded at him   
earnestly. "I think I just want to sleep most of the day anyway." She smiled   
cutely and wrinkled up her nose.

"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you by yourself when you...."

"I'll be fine," she repeated reassuringly. "Lionel, it means so much to me that   
you were here when I woke up. But I don't want to mess up your whole business   
day!" She smiled up at him and made her eyes big. "You'll be back tonight, won't   
you?"

He smiled again, more widely this time. It was almost a grin. That's how he   
smiled when he was young, Lana realized. "Nothing could keep me away," he   
promised.

"Good. Travel safely," she told him.

Lionel bent to kiss her gently on the forehead, but she reached up and got a   
hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips.

It was their first kiss.

***********

Before Clark had let Chloe and Lex back into their cars at Riley's Field, he'd   
checked them over carefully and pinch-crushed the listening devices he'd   
located. Lex still found the whole truth hard to believe, although he supposed   
it made as much sense as anything else did in this place. Watching Clark look   
through solid objects and destroy metal and silicon with his bare fingers really   
brought it home to him how weird this all was.

He hoped it was really happening.

Chloe seemed to be handling this whole, well, everything, better than he was.   
Lex wondered how much she'd already known. He knew he'd had evidence   
before, though he didn't know where it all was nowadays, that Clark was   
extraordinarily gifted in more than the obvious ways. He'd never really dreamed   
the boy might be an alien, though.

Clark had caught him staring absentmindedly at his car, long moments after Chloe   
had already left for home, and insisted, with a worried expression, that Lex had   
to come home with him to the Kents'. Lex didn't argue. He even walked around to   
the passenger side, making Clark drive. That's when Clark had started looking   
really worried.

Lex didn't want to crash the car, if it turned out that all this really wasn't   
happening. If he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, he might easily   
hit something or drive off a bridge.

Again.

At the cheery yellow farmhouse, Clark took his arm and literally steered him   
inside. It was nice, except that Clark looked so upset. He got Lex onto the   
couch in the front room, and took his shoes off for him. Lex just watched.

"Lex? Lex. Lex!"

"What?"

"How long is it since you've gotten a whole night's sleep?"

"What month is it?" he wondered, but he didn't think he said it aloud. Lex shook   
his head and cleared his throat. "A few days, I guess. Just a few days."

"You have to sleep, Lex. C'mon." Clark gently pushed at him (very gently,   
considering what he'd seen those same big hands do just minutes ago -- had he   
seen that?) until he was lying on the couch, and threw an old quilt over him.   
"Okay, now. I'm gonna go do a few chores. My folks'll be up in an hour or so.   
You just sleep, all right? Don't worry about Mom and Dad, or anything. Just   
sleep."

Lex lay there and shivered for a while, but he must have fallen asleep because   
when he woke up there were people in the kitchen, and there was a little light   
outside the windows. He sat up and put his shoes back on, then folded the quilt   
neatly and draped it over the back of the sofa.

"Lex?" Mrs. Kent came out of the kitchen and looked at him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Kent...."

"Martha," she corrected him.

"Martha," he repeated, and tried out a smile. It seemed to work; she looked at   
him again, more friendly and less worried.

"I found him sleeping in his car by the side of the road," Clark boomed   
cheerfully from the doorway. He was wiping his feet. "So I brought him home.   
Stock's all taken care of, Dad."

Mr. Kent came out of the kitchen, too, holding a mug of coffee. "Clark, you   
know...." Lex saw him literally bite his tongue in order to avoid the whole   
superspeed/alien conversation in front of a stranger, a Luthor, him. "Guess   
bringing home strays must run in the family," Mr. Kent said instead, putting an   
arm around his wife and shaking his head ruefully at Clark.

They're all much better liars than I've always thought, Lex decided. He'd always   
known there was something, but he'd never have guessed it was this. If it really   
was.

His head was starting to hurt again.

"You were sleeping in your car?" Mrs. Kent was looking worried at him again.   
"Come have some breakfast, Lex."

"Yes, ma'am." Lex got up. He didn't need Clark to help him. By the time he got   
to the kitchen table, there was a plate and cutlery there, and a cup of coffee   
already poured. "Um. I couldn't sleep last night, so I went for a drive. But   
then I realized I was sleepy after all, so I pulled over. So I wouldn't get in   
an accident, or anything," he finished weakly.

"Well, that was good thinking, I guess, Lex. It's good you pulled over." Mrs.   
Kent, Martha, put some scrambled eggs on his plate and gave him a muffin. He   
thanked her and started to pick at them.

They all ate for a while.

"So. Who's running the plant now that you fired Gabe Sullivan?" Jonathan asked   
suddenly.

Lex tried to remember. He couldn't. Maybe he'd never known. "I'm not sure. My   
father owns it again, now. He will have appointed somebody."

"Thought he appointed you."

"Dad," Clark said urgently.

"Just making conversation, Clark. I thought you were still responsible for   
Fertilizer Plant Number Three, Lex. After all, you are the one who had to fire   
Gabe Sullivan, aren't you?"

"I guess I am," Lex said, considering.

"How are things there these days?" At Lex's continued silence, Jonathan went on.   
"Have you even been to check on them recently? When's the last time you went   
in to work?" The voice didn't go with the words. Jonathan should be sounding   
scornful, not -- whatever it was he was sounding. Lex lifted his head and met   
the farmer's eyes. He looked at him like Clark did, sometimes, lately. He wasn't   
attacking him; he was just prodding, pushing him to do something. Clark himself   
was looking ferociously worried and protective off to the side of the table   
(Chloe was right about that, he thought -- I do need to ask Clark to cool it a   
little) but sometimes when he was trying to encourage him, he looked just like   
that.

"Considering your age and everything, the boys at the plant used to say you did   
a pretty good job of managing there, back before last summer," Jonathan   
continued.

"I should go in to work today. Check on the plant," Lex mused.

"Attaboy."

***********

It took Lionel an entire thermos of Mrs. Digman's excellent coffee, twice the   
recommended dosage of his meds, and most of the hour-long helicopter ride to   
prepare himself for the morning's meeting. It wasn't so much the sleepless night   
and the monster attack that had shattered his concentration. It was the kiss.   
Lillian used to pull him into a kiss in just the same way when she lay ill --   
when she lay dying, ten years before. There was no way Lana could have known   
about it. There was no way she could have echoed that painful, perfect gesture   
on purpose.

Dwelling on memories of his dead wife wasn't going to get him through this   
meeting successfully.

At least Lex wouldn't be there.

Mr. Farquhar and his flunkies were just late enough to be insolent. They   
obviously didn't fully realize with whom they were dealing. Lionel didn't mind.   
He had plenty to occupy his thoughts, and Farquhar would regret his actions soon   
enough.

"Ah, Mr. Farquhar," Lionel greeted him at last. "Sit down, won't you?"

"Mr. Luthor," Farquhar acknowledged, taking the indicated chair and gesturing   
his entourage to their seats. "I must admit, I'm puzzled by your offer."

"Ah, right to business, then," Lionel purred. "I admire that in a man."

Farquhar seemed to be thrown a little off by Lionel's non-response. Lionel   
enjoyed his discomfiture.

Farquhar apparently decided to begin again. "As I said, I'm puzzled by your   
offer. If it weren't for the Luthor reputation, I'd think it was a joke. The   
Panama assets are worth more than twice what you've bid. What is the meaning of   
this?"

Farquhar's attempt at anger failed to completely mask his underlying fear.   
Luthor reputation indeed. Lionel spent an enjoyable moment wondering how   
many other dirty little secrets the man was trying to hide. Then he murmured,   
"Oh, surely not twice as much," and delicately slid an ordinary brown pasteboard   
portfolio over to Farquhar's place at the conference table, using only two   
fingers. "I'm sure that, upon further reflection, you'll find that my offer is   
more than fair."

Farquhar glared impotently at him for a moment before untying the tapes. If   
looks could kill, Lionel thought, chuckling to himself.

Farquhar turned pale, then red. He shielded the photos from his associates'   
view, then decided to brazen it out, just as Lionel had known he would. God, he   
was going to miss this. Life was still so much fun, despite everything!

"Blackmail, Lionel? I'm surprised that you, of all people, would think this   
would work. These pictures don't change anything. There's nothing illegal here   
\-- my wife knows exactly what sort of a man she married, and my board aren't   
prudes. Why would you even think that..."

Lionel cut Farquhar's diatribe off short. "Oh, I know the charming Mrs. Farquhar   
quite well," he leered. "You're right, of course; she wouldn't turn a hair.   
However, she doesn't control thirty percent of the voting stock of Farquhar   
Industries."

Farquhar's look of shocked comprehension was instant. Lionel could've stopped   
right there, but he went on. "It must be so nice to have daughters -- sweet,   
biddable girls, educated at the finest Swiss boarding schools, carefully   
brought-up by nuns, who can be absolutely relied upon to vote Grandfather's   
stock the way Daddy tells them to."

The man was pale again. He really should get his blood pressure checked. "Better   
than that insane degenerate son of yours," he spat out.

"Tsk, tsk. We're civilized businessmen, Farquhar, not fishwives. Are you going   
to sign this thing or not? Oh, by the way -- those girls in the third photo? Are   
exactly the same ages as your daughters. To the day." Lionel smirked, and made a   
mental note to release the photos to the Inquisitor anyhow, in a few months.

Damn. Maybe he'd have to put that in his will.

"Come, come. Some of us have other things to do today." He was suddenly a little   
tired of Farquhar. Oh, well. Besides, he wanted to hurry back to Smallville to   
check on Lana.

Farquhar signed, of course. The assets would be nice, but the game had been   
nicer. Lionel left with a spring in his step.

The duty nurse at Smallville Med Center told him that Miss Sullivan had taken   
Lana home at lunchtime. He was relieved to hear she was well enough for that,   
and he refused to let the idea of Chloe make him uneasy.

The Sullivans' street was deserted, in the way that residential streets are in   
the middle of the day -- adults at work, children at school or day-care. Gabe's   
car was gone; he must be out job-hunting.

Lionel knocked quietly on the door. There was no answer. Chloe must have gone   
back to school; Lana was probably asleep.

He really wanted to see her.

Lionel's hair was a point of pride for him. Not only did he like the way it   
looked and felt; it also had been the first way he'd rebelled against his own   
devil of a father, and it provided an unexpected place to carry things. Lionel   
looked up and down the street. It was still completely empty.

He took his lockpicks out of his hair and opened the front door. It took less   
than a minute.

***********

His couple of hours' sleep and farmer's breakfast seemed to have done Lex good.   
He was able to drive; he found the crap factory with no problem; he even located   
his former office.

The secretary looked up from the phone with a harried expression. "Mr. Luthor!"   
she exclaimed, quickly correcting herself, "Lex! Oh, thank goodness you're   
here!"

Well, that surely wasn't the reaction he was expecting. It took a moment longer   
than it should have to dredge the woman's name up from his memory, but he   
could be smooth. "Carol. What's the problem? What can I do for you?"

"Where shall I start?" Carol had always struck him as a competent, steady-minded   
sort of a person. This desperate flustered state seemed unlike her. Lex watched   
her pull herself together and put her thoughts in order. In less than five   
minutes, she seemed much more like the woman he'd known. "Okay." Carol took   
one more deep breath. "I know you've been ill." The look she shot him had only a   
little bit of sympathy in it, and Lex found he could stand it quite well. "Your   
name is still on the signature lists, though, and Mr. Blodgett --" Carol   
gestured scornfully at the office door "-- is never in! The Wilkinson potash   
shipment didn't come through, and there's no one to authorize an emergency   
re-order, and I've had the production guys after me for days, and we're going to   
miss the monthly target! Gonzalez is talking about going out and hijacking a   
truckful somewhere! He's not serious, of course, I think, but you can just...."

Lex expertly cut her off. "Carol, it's okay. Show me the paperwork, and we'll   
get the materials in."

Lex handled that, got Wilkinson on the phone and threatened him, placed a   
stopgap order with Parkers (who were a little more expensive but much more   
reliable) and authorized the overtime that would be necessary to make up for the   
ordering snafu.

It was easy. It felt good.

While Carol was speaking to the production foreman, telling him that Receiving   
would have potash within the hour and OT was authorized, Lex picked up a   
contentious note in the buzzing that was the foreman's voice heard dimly through   
Carol's handset. He took the phone from her, and spoke to the foreman (what was   
his name?) himself.

"This is Lex Luthor. How can I help you today?"

There was stunned silence for a moment on the other end of the line, but the   
man's fury seemed sufficient to kick him back into action after only a moment.   
"You gotta do something about the Plant Safety Officer, sir. He's shutting us   
down at every turn, and he don't know shit! Excuse me. But he don't."

Lex racked his brain. Plant Safety -- Dick Richardson? "Come now. Richardson   
has twelve years' experience in that job."

"But this new guy's a pup. Sir. Richardson took early retirement when you booted   
poor --- when Sullivan left, sir. Same with Arques and Murphy -- QC ain't worth   
a shit no more, and...."

Lex cut him off, too. "It's okay, Walters." That was the name -- Walters. "I'll   
have a chat with him. You just get that potash in, and the line moving again."   
Lex hung up and turned to Carol. "Who's the new Safety guy?"

"Bill Tompkins. He's only been here two years, but he had the seniority when   
Richardson left."

"Get him for me," Lex commanded casually, and went into the office.

Blodgett kept a messy desk. Lex rummaged through it for a while, and gained a   
new appreciation for his father's technique. Getting Lex to fire Gabe (and then   
keeping Lex in Metropolis 'sharpening pencils' afterward) had been an elegant   
way of dooming Plant Number Three, and getting revenge on all the fools who'd   
backed Lex two years before. Gabe's patently unfair termination had triggered a   
large number of early retirements and flat-out resignations from their best   
employees. Things were falling to pieces without them, and Blodgett, a   
LuthorCorp drone of the worst kind, was just the icing on the cake. The place   
would be bankrupt within the year.

But he knew he could fix it.

"Mr. Luthor?" inquired a nervous voice from the open doorway.

"Lex, please," he corrected. "Mr. Luthor is my father."

Bill Tompkins turned out to be a weedy young man with a thin beard and a thick   
sheaf of papers attached to a clipboard. Lex surreptitiously double-checked the   
file he'd found on the man, making him wait. The file showed Tompkins as   
twenty-three -- the same age as Lex. Why did he look so young?

Presently Lex noticed that Tompkins was shifting from foot to foot, becoming   
even more nervous. This is how Dad would handle this, he realized. Suddenly he   
knew he wanted to do it differently. He closed the file and stood up.

"Mr. Tompkins, I understand you're the new Plant Safety Officer. I'm pleased to   
meet you." Lex stuck his hand out for the kid to shake.

The kid took it, with a panicky-sounding laugh. "Uh. If I'm calling you Lex,   
don't you think you better call me Bill?"

Lex smiled at him. "Okay, Bill. I've been gone a long while. How about you show   
me how the plant's doing. Let's take a walk."

Tompkins nodded nervously. "Sure. Yessir. Sure."

Lex certainly wasn't a trained Safety Engineer, but he'd blown up plenty of   
stuff in college. He'd also gotten a little obsessive about Plant Number Three's   
methane-control systems after poor old Earl Jenkins almost killed him, so he   
figured he had a fair idea of what the safety guy should be checking.

Tompkins, unfortunately, kept his eyes mostly glued to his paperwork. He had a   
long checklist of things to go over at each work station, always starting with   
the question of whether the logbook was filled out properly. He was actually   
arguing with a guy about whether some entry in the book was a one or a seven,   
when Lex noticed a nearby temperature gage had just crept into the red.

"Bill," he interrupted, gesturing at the gage.

"Crap!" Bill squeaked, dropping his clipboard and the station logbook with a   
clatter. In a high-pitched, urgent, but somehow no-longer-panicky voice, he   
explained, directed, and helped the operators fix the problem. It was a long and   
involved process, taking almost fifteen minutes before the vat temperature   
stabilized and started inching back down into the green, but Tompkins didn't   
refer to the documentation once. There could be no doubt that he knew the   
equipment, and the procedures. Lex was favorably impressed.

When the crisis was over, and normal operations were resumed, Bill looked at the   
scattered pile of papers he'd dropped, and his face crumpled. "Crap," he   
repeated softly. He glanced up at Lex, and then straight down at the floor   
again. "I'm sorry, sir," he began.

"It's okay, Bill," Lex cut him off. "Sorry for what? You headed that off well   
before it could get dangerous. From here, it looked like you knew exactly what   
you were doing."

"I know I shouldn't have just, you know, charged in like that. I realize I'm   
required to generate an Incident Report before taking any action, and I'm not   
really allowed to order the operators around like that. Or touch the equipment.   
He could file a grievance! Mr. Blodgett says...."

"Blodgett's an idiot, and so's that guy if he files a grievance on you. I don't   
think he really can anyway -- it was a safety issue, and you are the Plant   
Safety Officer."

Tompkins was still staring disconsolately at the heap of papers on the ground.   
He started to gather them up, searching for something as he went. "Incident   
Report," he muttered.

Lex put the station logbook back together while Tompkins struggled to fill out   
the Incident Report form. The badly-written 'one' or 'seven' was forgotten. The   
operator had recovered from the earlier real scare, and started looking   
truculent as Bill slowly wrote up the offense. Lex looked over Bill's shoulder.   
The pre-printed categories of incident all sounded pretty dire -- Bill was   
wavering between 'Dereliction of Duty' and 'Gross Negligence', obviously rather   
unwilling to mark either, but unsure of what to do instead.

"Just check 'Other'," Lex suggested. "Write in the margin what happened, and how   
you guys fixed it. You sign as Safety." Lex checked the operator's badge.   
"Connor here will sign as Production, and I'll sign as Approved By. Then you can   
just put the pink copy in the back of the logbook, and file the white in the   
Safety Office, and it's done. The yellow copy doesn't have to go to Human   
Resources unless somebody really is being Derelict of Duty or Grossly   
Negligent."

"I could use 'Other' almost all the time," Tompkins realized. Then his face   
fell. "I don't think Blodgett would sign off on them, though."

"I would. Just leave them with Carol, and ask her to give them to me when I come   
in. I'll probably be in a lot more, now." Now that I'm getting better, Lex   
thought.

Tompkins and Connor both looked pleased. "Let's finish our tour of the plant,"   
Lex decided. As they walked on, he added, "You know, Bill, you don't have to   
write people up for illegible handwriting."

"Oh, I know. Richardson never used to. But Mr. Blodgett says..."

"Ignore him. I'm here now."

***********

"Finally!" Chloe exclaimed when Clark drifted into school a few minutes late.   
She shouldered her bag, keys already in her hand. "Let's go!"

"Huh?" Clark asked.

Chloe circled him restlessly. "We need to go to Metropolis today. Now, in fact!"

"Why?"

"I'll explain in the car!" Chloe exploded.

Clark noticed her eyes looked suspiciously bright. Something was wrong. "What's   
wrong?" he asked.

"Aargh!" She actually let out a little scream of frustration, but she also stood   
still and started to explain. Clark felt vindicated.

"My dad caught me sneaking back in this morning! I'm grounded! Can't go   
anywhere but school! That's why we need to hurry!"

"To Metropolis?"

"Yes! I've been researching links between Lionel Luthor and Morgan Edge. All   
the computer records will tell me is that they were both born in Suicide Slum,   
two years apart. Everything else has been -- it looks like it's all been tampered   
with! I can't even find out where Edge went to school! Or if he ever did! And   
Mr. Luthor's records are uniformly too perfect to be true!"

"That fits right in with what Lex said about your dad's Performance Evaluations,   
at the plant."

"Yes!"

"But why do we need to go to Metropolis?"

"Oh! I so don't have time for this! We need to get there and find what we need   
and return before Dad thinks I should be back from school!"

"Won't you get in even more trouble for cutting school?"

"This is important, Clark! This is Lana's life! And it's news! And it's our only   
chance of protecting ourselves from Lionel Luthor! It doesn't matter if I get in   
trouble!"

"I still don't understand why we have to go to Metropolis."

Chloe dodged around Clark's bulk and headed for the front door. Clark stopped   
her very, very gently. "Chloe, please." He used his best puppy-expression on   
her. "Just explain it to me?"

"Fine." Chloe heaved a big sigh and dragged Clark into the Torch office. She   
carefully closed the door behind them.

"In 1970 Metropolis became one of the first cities in the U.S. to completely   
digitize all its public records. Ever since then, everything's been kept on   
computer, available by printout at City Hall, or these days over the web."

Clark nodded. "Everybody knows that."

"What everybody doesn't know," Chloe continued, rolling her eyes at him, "is   
that the Metropolis City Registrar from 1969 through 1994, Carl Kearns, didn't   
believe in ever throwing anything away. The city allotted money to destroy the   
old paper records once they'd been transferred over, but Kearns never spent it.   
Eventually it got folded back into the City General Fund. The old files are all   
still there, in the sub-basement of the Hall of Records."

"How do you know all this arcane Metropolis history?"

"I'm an arcane Metropolis girl!" she sniped, but then she smiled and took the   
sting out. "Seriously, Clark, I spent the last two summers working at the Daily   
Planet, while you were down on the farm picking corn. You know me. I found out   
all I could. The place is huge, cavernous really, and in no particular order,   
but it's pretty much our only hope. If Lionel Luthor and Morgan Edge were   
crime-buddies before 1970, and if they only got around to record-cleanup after   
the big computerization, and if they never bothered with the old leftover   
paperwork, we might find something. I know it's a long-shot...."

"No! I think it's a good plan! Really!" Clark knew the look that got him. That   
was the Clark-You're-Dumb-Maybe-This-Isn't-a-Good-Plan look. He charged   
ahead anyhow. "But if we leave now, and miss the whole day, you'll get in more   
trouble with your dad...."

"It's a three-hour drive to Metropolis!" Chloe interrupted. "Even if we go right   
away, and come back as fast as we can, we'll still have barely any time to   
search!"

Clark continued unperturbed. "Remember last night? I'm fast. Here's what we'll   
do...."

Chloe cut him off again. "How fast?" she demanded.

"Very fast," Clark assured her. At her dubious look, he elaborated. "Five   
minutes to Metropolis, maybe less. And I can carry you easily." Wow. He'd   
surprised Chloe into wide-eyed silence. Cool. He hurried to take advantage of   
it. "So here's what I think the plan should be. You go to Home Room. I go to   
Home Room. We're both late, but I'm always late so it doesn't matter, and your   
eyes are all red. If you just look real upset and stuff, they probably won't   
bother you much. You turn in your assignments, and go to First Period, and then   
in about forty minutes you look even more upset and go to the restroom. I'll   
meet you outside the door...."

"What are you doing while I'm looking upset and teary?" Chloe asked indignantly.

"Moping," Clark replied promptly. "Moping in Home Room for five minutes with   
my head down, then saying I have a stomach ache and asking Mrs. Merck if I can   
call my mom and go lie down. She'll let me because I'm useless when I'm moping,   
and I ran away last summer, and my test scores are always good. After a while I'll   
just disappear from the office couch, and they'll think Mom came and got me. The   
story that we're pretending to be hiding can be that you and I had a big fight   
\-- maybe even a bad breakup. That fits in with you being caught sneaking in this   
morning, too. It's our lie-behind-the-lie."

"This is awfully intricate," Chloe said dubiously.

"Not really. I'll meet you at the Girls' Room door, and run you to Metropolis.   
We'll find the information."

Just then, Chloe's cell phone rang.

"Darn!" Chloe ejaculated, after a short conversation. "I have to go pick Lana up   
from the hospital at lunch."

"Actually, that works great. You show me what to look for in Metropolis, and   
then I'll run you back. Go to class, or hang out here, or whatever, but make   
sure lots of people see you head over to Smallville Med to get her at noontime.   
You'll have tons of witness that you were at school today."

"You're smarter than you look! No offense."

Clark laughed. "It totally comes and goes. Some things are really easy, and some   
things are really, really hard."

"'Cause you're an alien. Jeez," Chloe whispered. She looked like it might   
finally be really hitting her. What with getting caught out by Gabe last night,   
and worrying about Lana, and this morning's Luthor-Metropolis panic, his big   
revelation might not have had time to soak in for Chloe yet.

He didn't want to watch it happen.

"Go on," he said, giving her a tiny, gentle shove. "Go to class. Look upset.   
I'll meet you outside the bathroom in this building in forty minutes!"

***********

Being picked up by a big, good-looking guy was new and weird enough -- Chloe   
felt like the heroine of one of Lana's stupid romance novels. Then Clark took   
off, and it was like nothing on Earth. Literally, she realized with a tiny   
shiver. Nothing on Earth.

Five minutes isn't long to travel a hundred and fifty miles, but it's plenty of   
time to think when the wind keeps your eyes tight shut, and you have nothing to   
do with your hands but hold on. It hadn't sunk in before. Clark Kent, Chloe's   
sidekick and sometimes-crush since eighth grade, had been born on another   
planet. He wasn't even as close to her, biologically, as a cat or a dog. He   
didn't know what he was doing here, but he said Dr. Swann thought all the rest   
of his people were dead. That was another spooky thought.

Lex and Clark together -- that was kind of spooky, too. She supposed she should   
have seen it before, but Clark was always such a goddam mystery ('cause he's   
NOT FROM THIS PLANET) and Lex always had that smooth, smooth shell, at   
least before the medically-incorrect Electro-Convulsive Therapy. God, Lionel   
Luthor did that to his own son, to cover up some crime. She couldn't let Lana just   
marry the guy, not when she knew how incredibly evil he was. They had to find a   
weapon to use against him. They just had to.

All the whooshing suddenly stopped. "We're here," Clark said, setting her on her   
feet.

Chloe recognized the place -- they were in an underground parking area behind   
the Metropolis City Hall. No one was around.

She knew her way from here. "Come on, I'll show you the way and introduce you   
to the check-in guy. Do you have money for the copy machines?"

"Um." Clark looked embarrassed.

Chloe gave him twenty bucks and grabbed his arm. "C'mon," she repeated, "let's   
get this show on the road. I want to make sure you know what you're doing before   
you take me back to pick up Lana."

Clark in Metropolis moved like a smaller, shyer guy. Chloe supposed he was   
remembering the stuff he'd done over the summer. She was sure she hadn't heard   
about all of it, but she'd heard enough. If it had been her, she'd be cringing   
too.

There was no problem getting into the archives. They were even more of a mess   
than she remembered. Since the city had no official interest in them anymore,   
and maintained them in an unheated, un-air-conditioned, otherwise useless   
basement room, people (mainly historians, reporters, and novelists) could   
rummage through them unsupervised. Some of them were apparently slobs.

"Okay. This is the place. We're looking for anything about Lionel Luthor, Morgan   
Edge...."

"Lachlan Luthor, explosions and/or fires in Suicide Slum, arson in general...."

"Whoa, Clark. Don't cast too wide a net, here. We've got to be quick and move   
on; there isn't time to look for absolutely everything."

"How 'bout I do Lachlan Luthor first?"

"Huh?" Chloe asked, but there was already a whirlwind going on. Papers were   
flying, but not randomly. Clark was literally going too fast to see, but the   
effects of his actions were visible in the fluttering, and the noise was like a   
windstorm, punctuated by the slams of file drawers. Less than five minutes   
later, he was back at her side, with a stack of papers. The room looked a lot   
neater, too.

"Here," he said, handing them to her. "It's everything with that name on it."

"Wow." Chloe stared at him, feeling a little stunned. C'mon, Chloe, it's the   
same old Clark. He's always been an alien; you just didn't know it before.

He was still looking at her, expectant and a little worried now.

Suddenly Chloe laughed. "Actually, this is very cool, Clark. You know what?   
With the way you spun that yarn last night, and the   
light-speed-human-search-engine thing you can do? You would make a hell of a   
reporter."

Clark blinked at her. "I always thought that the lunch menus were more my speed,   
and I'm not exactly a **human** search engine," he mumbled.

She grinned at him. "Work with me, Kent. I'll have you winning Pulitzers in no   
time." He stopped looking worried and grinned back. Everything was going to be   
okay. Still the same old Clark. "Come with me; I'll show you the copy room.   
We're not allowed to take anything out of the building...."

"We might want to hide what we find in here, then," Clark interrupted. "Is there   
anyplace?"

"That radiator doesn't work. Can you...." She was talking to empty air, and then   
Clark was back in a flash.

"Plenty of room. There's no water in it anymore; I can bend it a little if I   
have to, and put stuff down behind."

"Great! We don't want anybody Lionel might set after us to find anything we   
find."

In the copy room, Chloe showed Clark how to work the machines, and they   
copied all he'd found. "I'll search out whatever seems reasonable, and bring the   
copies to you this evening," Clark proposed.

"Since I'm still grounded, I guess that's how it'll have to be. If I think of   
something better, I'll call you." They stashed Lachlan's records, and Clark ran   
Chloe back to school.

***********

Lana felt eyes on her and woke up immediately. "Who's there?" she called, heart   
pounding despite the muzziness of sleep and pain-pills. It wasn't fair to have   
another darn stalker the very next day after being mauled by a giant mutant   
crow! She was disoriented by lying on her tummy and by being home in bed in   
the middle of the day; she looked every direction but the right one. Her stitches   
tugged painfully as she whipped her head around to see what had disturbed   
her....

"It's me. It's all right." The voice was familiar.

She felt a tentative hand touch her hair, and finally located him. "Lionel," she   
sighed, sinking her head back down to rest her cheek on her hand. "Oh. You   
startled me."

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, still touching her hair. He sat down on the   
edge of her bed.

"Mmmm. That's nice," she encouraged. Lana meant to look up at him and wrinkle   
her nose cutely, then say "Better" and bob her head. This hair-stroking thing   
was entrancing, though. Or maybe that was the drugs. Whichever, it was nice. She   
rubbed her head against his hand a little and forgot the question.

Some time passed -- maybe a minute, maybe an hour. Lionel spoke a little,   
sometimes, not always in English. He didn't seem to expect any answers from her.   
Sweet nothings, Lana thought, and smiled. Presently, though, he asked her an   
actual question. Lana knew it must be important, because he asked it twice.

"Lana, sweetheart, do you think you'll be well enough to get married a week from   
Saturday?"

"Oh, yes," she replied dreamily. "They said I could get up tomorrow, and go to   
school or work the day after. Why are we in such a hurry?"

The stroking stopped, and Lionel didn't answer right away. Uh oh.

Lana awkwardly lifted her head and looked at him. He was staring absently into   
the middle distance. Then he smiled and looked down at her, met her eyes with a   
twinkle. "Surely it's not surprising, that I want to make you mine as soon as   
possible?"

Lana knew there was more. She didn't say anything, just gazed imploringly up   
into his eyes, willing him to trust her with the whole truth. She could see he   
didn't want to tell her, and she could see it when he changed his mind. He   
touched her cheek with one finger, and his smile faltered. He looked away.   
They always say that people can't lie while they're looking you in the eyes,   
Lana thought. Lionel apparently couldn't tell the truth that way. Lana stored   
the information away; it would be something useful to know, later, as his wife.

Lionel let out a chuckle, a short, nervous breath of a sound. His voice was   
rough and uncharacteristically unsure. "I'm in a hurry to marry you because,   
well, of course, all the usual reasons, because you're beautiful and I love you   
and...." He seemed to realize he was just prolonging the pain; stopped himself   
and took a deep breath. "I have liver cancer, Lana. The doctors give me four   
months."

She couldn't believe her ears. For a moment, she literally didn't understand   
what he'd said. It was too horrible. Finally, she gasped, "What?"

He still wasn't looking at her. "I'm dying," he confided in a low voice. Then he   
met her eyes again, smiled again. "I'm sure they're overreacting. Four months is   
undoubtedly a conservative estimate, so I'll be grateful to the useless quacks   
when I make it six months or a year. I'm sure that...."

"What!" Lana interrupted him. She surged up to her knees on the bed, heedless of   
the stitches tearing and the wounds opening up again. She grabbed him by the   
shoulders, the same way she had the night before when he was fighting that   
monster, keeping it from carrying her away. "You can't!" she cried.

Lionel stared up at her. He looked almost afraid.

"You can't! I just found you!" She could feel the blood running down her back,   
but that wasn't what was making her cry. "Lionel, you can't die! You can't leave   
me!"

He took her hands from off his shoulders, gathered them together in his big   
well-manicured ones. He bent his head over them and kissed her fingers. His long   
hair hid his face from her.

"I don't want to," Lionel said quietly. "There's nothing I want less than to   
die, especially now." He glanced up at her, and Lana could see that he did love   
her, even though she was bloody and teary and her nose was running. She sat   
down beside him and sniffed. He smiled at her and bowed his head again.

"I... I've tried a number of things, that aren't exactly... orthodox." Lionel   
was silent then for a while, and Lana started pulling herself together. He   
didn't let go of her hands. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," he finally   
muttered. "Adam. You remember?" Lana nodded, even though he couldn't see   
her.

"He was, how shall I put this? An unsuccessful experiment -- there were several;   
he was the only.... Well. He died of this same thing that's killing me, months   
before you met him."

Lana gasped; she couldn't help it. "Chloe was right?"

Lionel looked up at her with a tight little smile. "Miss Sullivan is definitely   
smart enough to be dangerous. If she told you Adam was a...." He bit his lip for   
a second, and closed his eyes before going on, "a re-animated corpse, then she   
was correct. As he deteriorated, he went mad, and killed my researchers. The   
most promising of the experimental formulae was destroyed; it was based on a   
blood sample that Dr. Bryce brought me from Smallville. She was a willful,   
vicious girl; she refused to tell me where she got it! I have reason to believe   
your friend Mr. Kent must have been the original source." Lionel's voice was   
getting stronger; he sounded more like himself, and was able to look at her   
again.

As a Smallville girl, Lana also found the story about killer zombies easier to   
take than the news of her fiance's fatal disease. Poor Adam, she thought, but   
that was nothing to the grief she felt about Lionel. Anyway, he was dead already   
before she ever knew him.

"Wait. Why do you think it was Clark's blood?" she asked.

"Well, he's obviously quite an extraordinary specimen, and there's the process   
of elimination. I've been able to get blood samples from nearly everyone else in   
town, as well as all those unfortunate former Smallville residents who have   
found themselves incarcerated in various state or county institutions. No one   
matches."

"It must be one of the mutants," Lana considered. At Lionel's look of surprise,   
she gave him a tiny glare. "I'm not dumb, no matter what people say. I've lived   
here all my life, too. Chloe says that it's the meteors, and that they give   
people weird powers and also some sorts of mental instability -- one from column   
A and two from column B, you know? Like Amy Palmer's brother got invisibility   
and an obsessive hatred of Lex, or Tina Grier got shapeshifting and mass-murder   
and a compulsion to be me. I think Clark got superhuman strength and speed,   
along with paranoia and maybe pathological lying. I don't see how that would   
make his blood what you're after, though. He's scared to death of needles --   
Helen probably couldn't have gotten his blood. It's not like he never gets sick   
or hurt, either, because I've seen him both. Have you tried Tina's blood?   
Shapeshifting should be like healing, shouldn't it?"

Lionel was grinning at her. He'd expected her to be really freaked out, Lana   
realized. She smiled back at him. It would take a lot more than unconventional   
medical research to make her think badly of him. Besides, he was just trying to   
save his own life, and Adam had been dead already before they'd experimented on   
him.

"Miss Grier is certainly another possibility. Unfortunately, she died before I   
could compare her blood with Dr. Bryce's original sample."

"Darn," Lana swore. Now that her first mad, passionate denial was spent, she was   
filled with a creeping sadness, and her back hurt. She leaned her head against   
Lionel's shoulder. He turned his face away and started gently stroking her hair   
again without looking at her.

Suddenly Lana had an idea.

"Lionel!" she gasped. He turned and met her excited gaze. "I know a guy!"

***********

Lex stayed at the plant until Carol, purse and keys in hand, literally chased   
him out the door. He'd managed to stick around long enough to touch base with   
the swing shift foremen and QC coverage guys (Blodgett never did show up) and   
make sure everybody had his cell number. He even considered writing it on the   
Men's Room wall, but chickened out (or alternatively, came to his senses) at the   
last minute.

As Lex drove along the quiet Kansas roads, he felt competent and like himself   
again. He could do this; he was in control of his own actions, and he knew how   
to run the factory. He knew how to do other things, too, lots of things.   
Business theory was an open book to him. He was the pilot of his own craft,   
steering between the shoals of malice and the maelstrom of madness on a path   
that would lead him inevitably to....

Huh. How did he end up parked in the lane outside Kent Organic Farm?

He sat in the car for a little while. He felt tired, but not with the heavy,   
numb exhaustion he'd endured for so many weeks. It had been a good day, as far   
as he could tell. He wasn't absolutely sure he remembered what good days were   
like, but he thought this had been one. It was warm in the car. The glass   
converts the higher-frequencies of light into infra-red, into heat, he thought   
randomly.

There was a rapping at the window. Lex sat up suddenly and opened his eyes   
wide.

It was Jonathan Kent. "You okay?" the farmer asked. He stepped back and made   
room for Lex to open the door.

Lex felt flustered. He got out. "I'm fine, Mr. Kent. I was just..."

"Sleepin' in your car again. I saw. And call me Jonathan. You might as well come   
on in, Lex. Clark isn't home yet, but he shouldn't be long now. You want   
something to eat?"

Lex suddenly realized he hadn't had lunch, and that he was actually hungry.   
"Thanks. That would be great."

Jonathan was wiping his hands on a rag as they walked, and he stuck it in the   
back pocket of his jeans to free his hands for the screen door. "Martha's in   
town, doin' somethin' or other. Muffins to the Talon, I think." Mr. Kent opened   
the refrigerator and peered inside. "Did you know a man who's had a heart attack   
isn't allowed to eat pie? Between Martha and Clark and that doctor, the list of   
stuff I can't do is gettin' pretty dang irritating," he grumbled, pulling the   
remains of a roasted chicken from the fridge and putting it on the counter. He   
reached in again and added a head of home-grown lettuce to the plate. "The   
bread-box is behind you, Lex," he said. "Not a speck of mayonnaise in the place,   
of course. We'll just have to do without."

Lex handed over the partial loaf of homemade whole wheat bread he'd found, and   
watched (a little enviously) as the old farmer deftly wielded a huge serrated   
knife, quickly putting together a couple of sandwiches. Jonathan gave the plates   
to Lex and gestured towards the kitchen table with his chin. Lex set them out   
and took a seat, while Jonathan brought over two cups and a pitcher of cold   
milk.

"Skim," he griped. "Why, when I was a boy, we fed the skim milk to the hogs." He   
bit discontentedly into his sandwich and made a face. "No salt, of course. What   
a world. How are things at the plant? You went in today?"

Lex chewed slowly to give himself a moment to think. The chicken was good, he   
thought -- marinated in something with a lot of herbs in it. Why was Mr. Kent so   
uncharacteristically chatty and, well, whiney today? "I went in. It was a good   
thing, too. There were a number of problems that were getting seriously out of   
hand. If you hadn't suggested I face my responsibilities this morning, they   
could only have gotten worse. Thank you."

The other man just grunted. He looked unhappy, and his face was drawn. Lex   
knew what kind of a response the question 'Are you all right?' would get, so he   
didn't ask. His mom had gotten touchy and irritable when she'd been ill, more   
and more so over the years it had taken her between her diagnosis and her death.   
Facing one's own mortality was difficult.

Lex put the sandwich down and took a deep breath. "They just want to keep you   
as long as they can. Clark, and Mrs. Kent, and, um, everyone. They'll miss you   
when you," Lex broke off and swallowed hard, then continued, "go, and they   
want to put it off as long as, as possible." His eyes fell; he studied the sandwich   
on its plate, somehow not hungry anymore.

The sound of Jonathan's amused snort brought his head up again. "Well, hell,   
Lex, I'm all right. And I know full well that's what they're doin'. If I could've kept   
my dad one extra day by getting up in the middle of the night to do his chores for   
him, and makin' sure he never got one more tasty meal, and nagging him to stay   
the hell off the roof, I'd have done it, for sure. Doesn't mean I have to like it. But I   
apologize for taking it out on you."

"You didn't!" Lex said, stung. "You honestly weren't taking it out on me -- I   
know what that's like. You just seemed upset, and...."

Jonathan's laughter cut him off again. At least he'd cheered the man up,   
although ordinarily he hated people laughing at him. "Eat up, Lex, and then come   
on out to the barn with me. They won't let me put the tractor up on blocks by   
myself anymore, and you might as well make yourself useful 'til Clark gets   
back." Jonathan washed the cups and went out. Lex finished his sandwich in a   
hurry and followed, feeling oddly better still about the weirdly good day he was   
having.

***********

Lana was fast asleep when Chloe got home from school. She didn't want to hear   
anything about how great Lionel Luthor was, so she tiptoed past the open door of   
the other upstairs bedroom, gathered her laptop and books, and headed   
downstairs to actually work on her homework. If she was grounded long enough,   
she might even pull off an A in Trig.

Dad might not have freaked so badly about the sneaking in if he hadn't also been   
freaking about the $3950 he'd found in her room while he was searching for paper   
clips. Chloe had started by saying she had the money legally, and she wasn't   
going to say where it had come from. She'd stuck to that, throughout the whole   
painful two-hour scene, that ended only when it was time for her to get ready   
for school. It was a good thing that the argument hadn't gone on for another ten   
minutes; Chloe had been about to indignantly declare that she'd been   
streetwalking in Grandville for years.

Now there was this mutual cold silence thing going on between the two of them.   
Chloe was almost getting nostalgic for the fighting.

She didn't like keeping secrets from her dad -- it almost never happened that   
way.

Jeez, Clark's life must be hell.

Speak of the devil -- okay, think of the alien -- there was a knock at the door.   
She was rising to answer it, but Gabe tossed aside the Classifieds, glared her   
back into her chair (when did he learn how to do that?) and went to the door   
himself.

"Clark," he said, in a cold, suspicious voice she'd never heard him use before.

"Mr. Sullivan," Clark bleated in his nervous, innocent-sounding tenor. "Um. Is   
Chloe here? I said I'd bring her some papers...." There was the sound of a stack   
of papers falling on the concrete porch. Chloe got up and lurked behind her dad,   
watching Clark nervously gather things up.

"Clark," she said.

The glance he turned up to her was nervous and imploring and shy. He's doing   
that lie-behind-the-lie thing he was talking about this morning, she realized.   
He's acting like we had a bad break-up or something last night.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to make her voice quavery, and   
look mad. She remembered how she'd felt after he ran off during the Spring Dance   
freshman year, and used that -- the thought of it made her chin go up and her   
chest heave automatically.

Clark looked embarrassed and distressed. God, he was good at this. Well, sure,   
Chloe realized. He's been living a series of overlapping lies his whole damn   
life. He'd gathered all the documents to his chest, and stood there with his   
head bowed.

Gabe was looking from Clark to Chloe and back again, and visibly drawing   
conclusions. "Clark," he said, and Chloe had to struggle to keep the relief she   
felt from showing on her face. He sounded like her Dad again. "What do you

know about four thousand dollars that I found in Chloe's room this morning?"   
Clark looked up at Gabe with absolute puppy-dog eyes, and then quickly looked   
down again. "I... Lex gave it to me, sir. I know you're, um, Lex never would   
have fired you, sir!"

Clark looked up again, just as imploring as before. "The personnel records at   
the plant were all messed up, and he doesn't remember, because of the   
electroshock! It's all a mistake, I know it is! He'd want you to." Clark dropped   
his eyes again. "I asked him for the money, for a friend, and he gave it to me,   
and I gave it to Chloe. He'd want you guys to have it; when he remembers, when   
this is all straightened out...." Clark dwindled off into nothing.

"I can't have Chloe accepting that kind of money."

The puppy-dog eyes were back. "Please, Mr. Sullivan! I can't take it back! I   
can't keep it, and I can't give it back to Lex, he'd, he'd never understand, not   
until he remembers, if he ever does." The last four words were in a stricken   
whisper that Chloe couldn't admire enough. She saw Gabe wince in sympathy for   
the man who'd fired him and ruined his career. Wow.

Clark raised his eyes one more time and blasted the Kent charm at her poor   
defenseless dad, full-power. "Please, Mr. Sullivan?"

***********

"I can't believe that worked! Is that some sort of alien ability or something?   
Making puppy-dog eyes at my dad never works for me! And you made him feel   
sorry for Lex! The guy who fired him!"

"But it wasn't Lex's fault!" Clark pointed out loyally.

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Well, it's true. Hey, look! He's here!" Somehow, the sight of a Porsche always   
made Clark's heart beat a little faster. Even that summer in Metropolis, when   
Porsches weren't as scarce as hen's teeth, and Lex was married and gone, and   
Clark (as he kept repeating inside his head) really wasn't himself, they had the   
same effect.

Chloe parked her little red Bug behind Lex's Porsche on the side of the lane.   
"Do your folks know? About you and Lex?"

Shoot. He hadn't even thought of that secret having the chance to get out.   
"Please don't tell them," he begged.

"Jeez, Clark. When are you going to figure out that you can trust me?" She   
slammed the car door in exasperation.

"I'm sorry. And I do!" Clark rushed to hold the kitchen screen door open for   
her.

"Well, act like it, then!" she fumed. "Hi, Mrs. Kent."

"Chloe! It's nice to see you again, dear. You haven't been around in an age!"

They hugged. Clark didn't really think about it much, but Chloe had no mom at   
all. It was nice that she could get hugs from his sometimes. He should have her   
over to the farm more often.

"What brings you out to the boondocks?" Mom asked Chloe. "Research project?"   
She must have noticed the huge-ish amount of documents they were carrying.

"That's right, Mrs. Kent. Clark and I were doing some   
history-from-original-sources, based on old Metropolis civil records."

"Goodness. That sounds like quite an undertaking! Sweetie, Dad's taking a little   
nap before supper, so why don't you kids go work on your research project out in   
the loft? Lex is already out there -- he was helping Jonathan with the tractor   
when I got home."

Clark thought he probably did a pretty good job concealing his surprise at that.   
Chloe, on the other hand, was audibly snorting with laughter. Mom gave them a   
plateful of cookies, and they headed out to the barn.

Lex was asleep, too, as it turned out. He looked so small, curled up in the   
corner of the old, beat-up couch in Clark's loft -- more like Chloe's size than   
his actual six-foot. Clark resolved, for the hundredth time since Lex had gotten   
back from Belle Reve, to never let him get hurt again. Darn that Lionel Luthor!   
Well, they'd fix him. Hopefully, all this stuff he'd brought back from the city   
would help.

"What are we looking for?" he asked Chloe, as they spread the papers out and   
settled onto the floor. He put the plate of Mom's cookies where Chloe could   
reach them easily.

"Anything suspicious," she answered, perusing the first paper from her pile.   
"Anyway, shouldn't you know? You looked at all of this stuff already."

"I was just looking for specific individual words. I didn't really read them,"   
Clark explained.

"Huh." Clark didn't understand the look Chloe gave him. Was this another freaky   
alien thing he did, without even knowing? "Well, look for suspicious stuff. You   
wanna wake Lex up? He could help."

"I kinda want to let him sleep, as long as he can. He's been awful tired, for a   
long time."

"Okay." They researched companionably for a while without finding anything   
particularly incriminating on Lionel Luthor. Lachlan had been quite the thug,   
but they knew that already. There was a paper trail on Morgan Edge's early life   
and crimes, which was completely missing from the computer version of   
Metropolis's Public Record. Chloe got pretty indignant about that, and her   
vociferous complaints eventually woke Lex.

"Hi," Lex said, in a sleepy voice that melted Clark's heart and brain, and sort of   
did the opposite of melt to certain other organs lower down. "What's going on?"

Chloe started explaining their plan, and the state of municipal record-keeping   
in Metropolis, and possibly a few other things, but Clark lost the thread of her   
argument almost immediately, because Lex waking up and stretching was a very   
distracting sight. He hoped he'd be able to see it a lot, some day.

"Sounds great," Lex said. "I'm in. Give me some files."

Clark grabbed a stack from the not-looked-at-yet pile and zipped over to hand it   
to Lex before he could get up from the couch. Lex thanked him with a smile, and   
Clark grinned back like a moonstruck idiot, which, okay, he pretty much was. He   
settled himself and his own handful of papers on the floor next to the sofa,   
where Lex could reach out and pet his hair if he wanted.

"Huh," said Lex, some time later. "Where's the rest of this one?"

Clark turned his head and looked. "What?"

Lex showed him. "This is just the first page of this."

Chloe came over. "Huh. You're right. Look -- you can see the xerox of the   
staple-holes in the corner. Medical Examiner's Report on Lachlan and Liza   
Luthor -- they were the only ones who died in that tenement explosion, you   
know, which is kind of suspicious as well. I downloaded the -- here." Chloe   
fetched her laptop over to the sofa, and Lex sat up to make room for her, and   
Clark hauled himself up to sit on the couch as well.

Chloe brought up the newspaper story on the fire that had killed Lex's   
grandparents. "See? It was a page seven story in the Planet."

The bald head and the blonde head leaned together, reading the story on Chloe's   
small laptop screen. Clark loomed over Lex's shoulder, but he was more   
interested in how Lex felt against him than in the account of the decades-old   
fire -- Lex and Chloe would figure it all out.

"This says the Luthors were the only two casualties. No one else was even   
injured."

"Yeah! Suspicious, huh? Somebody spread a story around the tenement that there   
was a free meat distribution at the new supermarket a half-mile away -- everyone   
but the Luthors heard about it, and the place didn't blow until all the other   
units were empty."

"This calls it a gas leak, but the story says that the police were investigating   
the possibility of arson. Did they ever say what the results of that   
investigation were?"

"The Daily Planet didn't mention it again. I'm guessing that means they didn't   
find anything."

"Seems reasonable. The only anomaly we've come across so far, though, is the   
partially-missing Medical Examiner's Report from that incident."

"So that counts as our first find. We'll put it aside, and keep plowing through   
the rest of this stuff," Chloe decided.

The three separated again, and continued their investigations. Chloe could do   
this for hours without losing concentration, but Clark eventually got bored and   
a little silly. Reading at top speed was okay for searching for some particular   
word or phrase, but he couldn't read for comprehension any faster than normal   
people, and they'd been at it already for a long time.

Lex had stretched out on the sofa again, once the other two had gone back to   
their original places, and his ear was in easy reach. Chloe was totally   
engrossed in the mystery; she wouldn't notice anything. Even if she did, she   
already knew about him and Lex. For the first time, there was no secret holding   
him back from engaging in a PDA.

Clark surreptitiously blew into Lex's tempting ear. Lex didn't seem to notice at   
first; Clark refined his aim and did it again. Lex turned to give him a Look,   
and Clark looked back, ostentatiously innocent. Lex went back to his reading.   
Hmm. Clark went back to his, too, for a couple of minutes, and then somebody   
blew into his ear.

Grinning like a fool, Clark grabbed Lex and carefully swept him down into his   
lap. Lex squeaked, which was funny and adorable, and then Lex grabbed Clark's   
face and kissed him hard, right on the lips. Oh.

Chloe rolled her eyes at them, but as the kiss went on (Lex was one hell of a   
kisser) Clark caught her looking more and more interested. Well, she could look   
all she wanted as long as she didn't touch; Lex was his and he didn't share.   
Then his seventeen-year-old brain went to the sharing place, and, okay, that was   
a hot idea. Lex chuckled into his mouth, obviously noticing the sudden change in   
Clark's lap. Clark closed his eyes and closed off the thought of sharing, too.   
Lex was all his, forever.

"Ahem." Oh, Jeez. It was Dad, standing at the top of the stairs to the loft.

Clark froze. Lex scrambled off his lap and stood before his father. "Mr. Kent, I   
can explain," he began.

Oh, no, no, no. Not this time. Lex wasn't going to have to be the one to take   
the brunt of this, whatever it turned out to be. Clark surged to his feet and   
got between his dad and his boyfriend. (Wow. Boyfriend.) There had to be a way   
through this situation that didn't involve anyone getting shot or having a heart   
attack.

Dad's face was tight and pale. His chin was sticking out, and his eyes were   
narrowed at Lex. Lex was getting that cold, aloof, superior expression he got   
whenever things were going really badly for him, and he was going to have to   
tough it out somehow. Things were getting out of hand already, and nobody'd   
even done anything yet!

Clark crossed his arms and made himself as big as possible. "Chloe," he said, in   
a calm, deep voice. "Go down and see if Mom needs any help in the kitchen."   
Please don't argue; please don't argue; please don't argue....

Apparently Chloe didn't want to be here for this conversation; she left without   
a word. Clark x-rayed to make sure she didn't lurk on the stairs and eavesdrop.   
She headed straight for the kitchen, no hesitation. Clark realized that his   
friends totally had a point, with the complaining that he didn't really ever   
trust them, but he didn't have time to angst about that now.

"Why don't you explain, Lex," Dad said in a low, venomous voice.

"I'll explain, Dad." Clark wanted to keep this calm baritone as long as he   
could; if everybody could just stay calm, this might not end up a train wreck.   
He hoped.

The fact that Dad wouldn't look at him was not a good sign for   
train-wreck-avoidance.

"Lex and I are in love."

Dad sneered, still looking at Lex. "And how long have you been toying with my   
son, Luthor?" he spat out.

Lex's superior expression just crumbled away. He swallowed hard. "I don't   
remember," he said, closed his eyes and turned away.

Dad stepped closer; Clark got in the way. Dad must be really furious; Lex's   
quiet, miserable admission would've melted a heart of stone. No time to melt.

"Please. Just look at me. Lex and I are in love. I've had a crush on him for a   
long time, probably since the beginning, since I saved him from the river." Now   
Dad was meeting Clark's eyes, and yeah, he was really furious, but at least he   
was listening.

Clark had a quick look at his father's heart and decided it was safe to proceed.   
"It wasn't Lex's fault. I didn't know I loved him until we both came back to   
Smallville last fall; he hugged me, and I knew I didn't want him to marry   
anybody else ever again. Not just because they kept trying to kill him, but   
because I was jealous of those women, Victoria and Desiree and Helen, and all   
the rest. I wanted him for myself. And Lex didn't know he loved me until I went   
to the mansion that night and broke in and kissed him."

Clark heard rather than saw Lex sit back down on the couch. "I knew," Lex said   
very quietly. "I knew before. I've always known I loved you."

Clark's heart was singing at that, but he had to keep going, keep this situation   
from exploding into a world of bad. Dad was looking past Clark to Lex; his face   
had lost most of its fury. Clark risked a look back over his shoulder. Lex was   
sitting hunched over on the sofa with his head in his hands. His eyes were   
covered; he looked small again.

"Please, Dad." The deep, calm voice was gone. Maybe he didn't need it anymore.

Jonathan heaved a sigh. "All right, son."

"Um. And I told him. You know, everything. Chloe, too."

"Clark!"

***********

Well, that went considerably better than I ever thought it would, Lex thought,   
restlessly thumping his pillow for the fortieth time that night. Mr. Kent didn't   
shoot me; Clark didn't actually spontaneously combust at any time; okay,   
awkward dinner, but I've certainly attended worse. That was a nice pumpkin   
custard.

He settled back against the exquisite linens and tried to sleep. Again.

Jeez! He'd done all kinds of work today! He was tired! Why the hell couldn't he   
just fall asleep?

He could sleep in his car. He could sleep on the Kents' living room sofa, and   
even on Clark's old beat-up monstrosity of a couch (despite its unexpected   
springs and the pervasive aroma of cat.)

Oh, this was ridiculous.

There was a Motel 6 out on the highway. Lex got up, dressed, packed a bag, and   
went.

***********

It was a nice night, Clark thought, as he put the cultivator away. He hadn't   
bothered with the tractor -- too noisy in the middle of the night, and it was   
just as easy to pull things himself. The field would be all right to plant in   
sweet corn, whenever Dad thought it was time -- probably this week.   
Clark squinted up at the stars, letting them shift in color and brightness   
through all the spectra. It was good practice, though he wasn't sure what   
exactly it was good practice for, and it looked really cool besides. Hey! Now he   
could tell Lex and Chloe about it, if he wanted -- Pete didn't seem to care much   
about astronomy.

Clark couldn't think of anything else that needed doing in the fields, and it   
was still too early to bother the cows. He headed back to the house to nap for a   
couple of hours, idly tuning his hearing up and down, to count the cars out on   
Route 8 and the crickets under the porch. He caught the sound of his parents   
quietly talking, and froze.

"You awake, Martha?"

"Mmm."

"He's doing it again."

"Hmm?"

"Clark. He's up and out in the fields."

"Oh, Jonathan. It's okay. He's just trying to help."

"Yeah." They were quiet then for a little while. Clark breathed again, and was   
just about to sneak back in through the kitchen door (although there wasn't much   
point in sneaking if they already knew he was up and what he was doing) when   
they started talking again.

"He's a good boy," Dad said. "I'm proud of him."

"He is a good boy," Mom agreed.

"I just wish..." Dad said, then sighed. "It could be worse," he finally   
continued.

"Hmm?"

"Lex."

"Oh, Jonathan."

"I know, I know." Dad sighed again. "Maybe they didn't have any womenfolk on   
Krypton."

Mom actually laughed. "You darling idiot," she said.

Clark quit listening then, cheeks blazing, and went on up to bed.

***********

Lionel didn't want to admit, even to himself, how much he hated heading back to   
Belle Reve.

It would have been easier if he hadn't been having one of his bad mornings.   
Unfortunately, he suspected that they'd become more and more the norm as, as   
time went on.

It had started at half past three, when the twisting stab in his side had pulled   
him from his heavy, sedative-assisted sleep. Too early to get up, too late to   
get back to sleep -- he'd stayed abed, hoping to drift off again, for as long as   
he could bear, then arisen, showered, dressed, and it still wasn't five a.m.   
There was no one in the kitchen; he wasn't hungry anyway. He took his morning   
dose, although it was three hours early. It helped a little, but not enough. He   
could breathe without much pain, but it still hurt to move. Wandering restlessly   
about his mansion (such a damnably un-home-like building, just like ever place   
he'd ever owned) Lionel succumbed to the temptation to slip into Lex's room and   
check on his son.

Lex was gone.

The boy was twenty-three, an adult. He didn't have a damn curfew. Even when   
he'd had one, he'd never adhered to it. Lex had always managed, pretty much, to   
take care of himself. He was a Luthor, after all.

Of course, when he'd spent his nights carousing, the only brain damage he'd had   
to contend with had been voluntary, pharmaceutically-induced, and thankfully   
temporary.

Hell. Just because Lex hadn't ended up a vegetable (Lionel knew any son of his   
would be too tough for that) didn't necessarily mean that he was fully as   
capable as he'd been before.

It wasn't as if Lionel were getting any sleep anyway.

By the time Lionel had confirmed that Lex, for no known reason, had checked

into the Motel 6 on Route 8 just after midnight, Lex had already left. One of those   
sudden insights that had so often enabled Lionel to nip Lex's little schemes in   
the bud told him to check the fertilizer plant. Sure enough, Security informed   
him that Lex Luthor had entered Plant Number Three at 6:45 a.m. What was he   
up to now?

At this late date, did it really matter?

Well, at least the whole minor debacle had provided a distraction. He'd made it   
all the way to sun-up without getting out his gun.

He was so tired.

***********

Lana wasn't going to school today, but she was going out. Moving as fast as she   
could, she still wasn't ready until long after Chloe had headed out for school,   
and Gabe had left for his new temp job down at the quarry.

After her injuries and the previous day's big weepy dramatic scene, Lana felt   
wrung-out and crusty. She hated it. Showering was prohibited until the stitches   
came out, so she had to make do with a sponge bath and the last of her   
Tylenol-with-Codeine tablets. She dressed in a fluttery, blue-and-yellow summer   
dress that she'd found at the back of her closet when she moved from Nell's   
house. She didn't like the color, and it was really too light for this early in   
the year, but it was loose and easy to put on. She double-checked that she had a   
bottle of regular Tylenol in her purse and headed downstairs.

Lana settled stiffly at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the morning's   
Ledger to wait for Lionel.

The previous night, it had taken him no time at all to find out where Cyrus was   
being kept. He'd been so masterful, stalking about the little pink bedroom, long   
hair and jacket flaring around him dramatically. Lana had been captivated, even   
as she lay on her side in the bloody bed and sniffled. Lionel got a doctor, too,   
to re-do her stitches, and his housekeeper from the castle came and changed the   
bed.

He took care of everything, even though he was the one who was really sick.

God, she loved him.

There was a knock at the door. Lana was thankful that she'd had time for the   
medicine to kick in, so her beau wouldn't see her moving around like   
Frankenstein.

"Geoffrey," she greeted Lionel's chauffeur in surprise.

"Good morning, miss. Mr. Luthor is waiting for you in the car."

"Oh, of course." Lana nodded and smiled prettily at the man. Geoffrey helped her   
with her coat, and held the door for her at the limo.

Lionel was hunched in the corner of the front-facing rear seat, studying his   
hands. He looked up at Lana and smiled, but she started worrying about him   
immediately. His hair was a little messier than usual, and his face was drawn   
and yellowish; it seemed like it was hurting him to move this morning, too.

"Good morning," Lana greeted him tenderly, and moved in to kiss him, very   
gently. When she pulled back and looked at him again, she was glad to see he was   
at least smiling.

"Better than OxyContin," he complimented.

Lana frowned at that, but smoothed the expression away immediately. She knew   
it would give her wrinkles. "Does it hurt very much?" she asked sympathetically.

"No, no," Lionel said, shaking his head a little and patting her hand   
reassuringly. He was looking right at her. He was lying.

"It'll be okay," Lana assured him, snuggling close. She sure hoped it would.

Lionel rested his chin on top of her head and just breathed. "It already is."

***********

Clark was late to Journalism, as usual. Chloe didn't even bother to get mad at   
him about it anymore. Actually, finding out that he was with Lex had made her   
life a lot simpler in a couple of ways. Finding out that he was an alien with   
serious superhero tendencies had helped, too. She'd never imagined that giving   
up on the idea of a Sullivan/Kent romance would be so relatively painless.   
It didn't mean she couldn't give him a hard time, though, just for fun. "You're   
late."

He did the puppy thing again. Man, that was cute. "I'm sorry. I got busy with   
the...."

"That's fine," she interrupted. "Remember that document that Lex found? The   
medical examiner's report? I found the woman who wrote it."

"Wow. She's still around?"

"Retired to Grandville. Got the address right here. If she remembers   
anything..."

"An exploded building's gotta be pretty memorable, even for Metropolis."

"So. After school? Think you can get your boyfriend to drive?"

Clark didn't say anything. Chloe turned away from typing up her latest editorial   
for the Torch (Does Shop Class Cause Sexual Harassment?) and looked at him.

He had a big stupid smile on his face. Then he shook his head and finally   
answered her.

"I'll ask him," Clark said happily.

***********

Cyrus Krup was housed in a ward with the other catatonic patients. The stillness   
of the contorted, wasted forms was eerie, made even more sinister by the   
contrast with the muffled chaotic noise of the lunatics' common room adjacent.

When Lionel had been dealing with Lex's dangerous knowledge, and madness,   
and their aftermath, he hadn't even known this room was here.

There were a dozen beds in the room, but only one chair. These people didn't get   
many visitors.

Privately, Lionel entertained no hopes of this expedition. Mr. Krup's blood had   
been fruitlessly tested with all the rest. If he had to be conscious and   
concentrating in order to heal, as Lana's story about some horse of hers had   
suggested, then the boy's persistent unconscious state would be quite the   
barrier to any success.

Lana blinked imploringly at the orderly who was their guide, and he obligingly   
moved the chair to Cyrus's bedside. "When you're ready to leave, just call," he   
said, indicating the house phone on the wall by the door.

"Thank you," Lana fluttered at him. Then she perched delicately on the chair.

"Ma'am," the orderly nodded.

Lionel studied him through narrowed eyes as the man left, locking the door   
behind him, still looking back at Lana and smiling as he went.

Lionel might not mind at all if the fellow perished in a fiery car-crash.

Lana's nervous voice interrupted his thoughts of bloody vengeance. "I've never   
done this on purpose before," she whispered. "I'm not sure there's even a this   
to do! I'm basing my whole plan on a thing that Chloe said one time when she was   
mad at me!"

Lionel moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him   
and smiled gratefully. Her eyes were full of tears.

"When the meteors fell, I was right there. I saw my parents," Here Lana paused   
to sniff delicately. "Crushed before my very eyes! The meteors were falling all   
around." She stopped again, and blinked the tears back. She took a deep breath   
and nodded a little to get hold of herself. "One day when Chloe was mad at me, I   
don't remember why, she said that I'm a mutant, too! She said that my mutant   
ability is that I make other mutants fall in love with me, and that my insanity   
is that I'm narcissistic!" Lana turned her big brown eyes imploringly up to   
Lionel. "She apologized later and took it all back, of course, but.... Do you   
think I'm a narcissist?"

Lionel chuckled and held her close, being careful of her bandages. She was   
adorable. "I know a hundred women in Metropolis who are vainer than you, my   
dear, and none of them has one-half your reason to be."

"Oh, Lionel! You always know just what to say!" She turned her attention back to   
the pale, still figure in the bed, took a deep breath, and nodded to herself a   
couple of times. "If this works, it might not really be fair to Cyrus. But I'm   
going to do it anyway."

That's my girl, Lionel thought fondly, and stepped back a little.

Lana leaned down earnestly to the thin, pale, awkward-looking form in the white   
institutional bed. "Cyrus," she called. Lana gathered the unconscious boy's   
hands into hers, and her voice vibrated with something Lionel couldn't identify.   
"Cyrus. I need you. Please, Cyrus, please wake up."

Incredibly, the boy moved. His head rolled against the pillow, and a frown   
corrugated the formerly rigid brow. Cyrus's breathing, barely perceptible   
before, became deep and ragged.

"That's it, Cyrus!" Lana urged. "Please, you've got to help me! Wake up!"

With a gasp, Cyrus opened his eyes. He stared wildly all about the room, then   
tried to lift his head and found that he couldn't. A year's inactivity had taken   
its toll. His gaze found Lana's, and locked onto her.

"Where am.... You're hurt," Cyrus whispered. He closed his eyes again, but now   
the pale, thin hands twisted to hold Lana's, and a dim golden light shone   
briefly where they met. The boy sagged, hands limp again, and Lionel feared that   
young Mr. Krup had shot his wad, but then Cyrus opened his eyes again.

"What's going on?" he begged of Lana.

She smiled beatifically at him. "Oh, Cyrus, thank you! I feel so much better!   
But, please, what I really needed you to do," here Lana blinked soulfully and   
nodded, gesturing for Lionel to approach.

That indefinable thrumming was back in her voice. Lionel knew then that, no   
matter how long or how short their life together might be, he would never be   
able to deny her anything. Oddly, the thought didn't bother him. He made his way   
stiffly back to Cyrus's bedside.

"Cyrus," Lana explained to the boy, who was still staring raptly at her, "this   
is Lionel Luthor. He's -- I need you to heal him. Please!" Lana joined Cyrus's   
hands to Lionel's.

Cyrus gazed into Lana's eyes a moment longer, breathing hard. Then he closed his   
eyes, and that dim golden light shone forth again from his hands.

It was the most extraordinary feeling -- as if a warm re-organizing energy   
spread from Cyrus's hands into his, travelling outward cell by cell, rectifying   
all the ills that flesh was heir to. His headache went away; the long-accustomed   
grate in his collarbone, broken by Lachlan's hand forty-five years before and   
never set properly, vanished; the ordinary stiffness of back and shoulders and   
knees melted away; and, best of all, that horrible twisting stab that had been   
growing more and more insistent over the last two years was gone, gone, gone!

Lionel felt like a kid again. At the slightest instigation, he could've gone   
straight out and knocked over a liquor store. A silly grin broke out on his face   
\-- he couldn't stop it, didn't even want to stop it.

"Lionel?" Lana asked.

He scooped her up in his arms and swung her around. She squealed with surprise,   
and he kissed her.

When he finally let her breathe again, her eyes were huge and dark. "I love   
you," he told her, "and I owe you my life."

"I plan to collect on that debt," she murmured, and kissed him in return.

When that one drew to its end, Lionel turned his attention back to Cyrus. The   
boy looked shaky and heartbroken, on top of the generally debilitated appearance   
one would expect in a person who'd been in a catatonic trance for more than a   
year. Lionel took the seat next to Cyrus's bed and addressed him seriously.

"You've saved my life here today, boy, and I'm grateful. You'll find the   
gratitude of Lionel Luthor is something worth having."

Here, Lana put her hands possessively on Lionel's shoulders. God, she was   
perfect. At Lana's gesture, Cyrus's eyes betrayed a wounded understanding.

"I'll have you out of this institution and into an apartment of your own, with a   
private nurse and a housekeeper, before close of business today, and I'll have a   
trust fund set up for you by the end of the week." Now Lionel put his hand on   
top of one of Lana's, and let his voice get hard. He held Cyrus's eyes with his,   
and saw the wounded self-pity there transform into a healthy sense of fear.

"Just as my gratitude is worth having, my enmity is something to avoid. Remember   
that what's mine is mine, and we'll get along perfectly."

Cyrus closed his eyes again, resigned, and Lionel stood and got his lawyers on   
the phone, to set up the boy's pay-off.

He'd not only saved Lionel's life; he'd also loved and lost Lana Lang -- Lionel   
had seen it on his face. Cyrus had earned whatever Lionel could give him.

***********

Lex was happy to drive the Smallville High Torch's two finest investigative   
journalists out to Grandville that afternoon. The Motel 6, completely free as it   
was of partial memories and dubious watchers, had granted him six solid hours of   
blessed sleep, and it had been another surprisingly good day at the plant. He'd   
spent most of it with the Quality Control people, and he was confident the plant   
would meet the monthly quota. He'd even remembered to eat lunch -- well,   
actually Carol had instructed Bill Tompkins to take him to lunch, but the point   
was that he'd eaten. He felt better than he'd felt for a long time.

Even the crappy mobile home park that turned out to be their destination wasn't   
enough to dampen his mood.

Natasha Lamb was an elderly woman with unrealistically red hair and a cigarette   
sticking out of her mouth. She invited Clark, Chloe and Lex into her trailer   
home as if they were the most interesting thing she'd seen in years.

"Come in, come in! What can I do for you young people? Would anyone like   
some tea?" Cats twined around Lex's feet as he stepped over the threshold. He was   
glad he didn't have asthma anymore. After a couple of rounds of polite denials   
and counter-offers of various refreshments, Chloe pulled out her photocopy of   
the first page of the medical report.

"Ms. Lamb," she began, laying the paper down on the coffee table in front of   
their hostess, "forty years ago, a tenement building in Metropolis exploded. You   
wrote the medical examiner's report on the bodies of Lachlan and Liza Luthor.   
Does any of this ring a bell?"

"Oh, yes. I remember. You don't forget a thing like that!" the old woman   
cackled. She picked the paper up and donned the spectacles that hung from a   
chain around her neck. "Where's the rest?"

Lex was amused when Chloe assumed her Confidential Reporter Voice. "That's   
just it! Nowhere! It's not in the old Basement Archive, and it's not stored in the   
Metropolis Municipal Database, either! Isn't that odd?"

"Can you tell us anything about it?" Clark pleaded.

"We'd appreciate any information at all," Lex added quietly.

Shrewd old eyes squinted at him over heavy black eyeglass frames. "You're Lex   
Luthor, aren't you?"

Lex swallowed. "Yes, ma'am." Was this going to be another day he'd rue his   
name?

"I met your father that day. He was just a punk kid -- younger than you lot."   
The old woman snorted with laughter. "I may be the only person still living   
who's had the Great Lionel Luthor ralph on their shoes!" The chuckles subsided   
into wheezing, and she told them all she knew:

I'd been on that job almost five years by then, and I'd learned Lesson Number   
One of the Metropolis Civil Service, which is nobody gives a good goddam about   
what happens in Suicide Slum. Still, a whole building doesn't explode every day,   
and there had to be an investigation.

It didn't have to be a very good investigation -- we were always pressed for   
time and money. To be honest, it would be best if the report just said "Gas   
Leak" and we could all get on with our lives (see Lesson Number One), but there   
had to be a report. I drew the short straw. Well, that's not really true. My   
boss at the time wanted me outta there -- said the Coroner's Office was no place   
for a lady. I always said I weren't no lady, but he seemed to think that just   
made it worse. Anyhow, the grossest corpses and the stupidest reports always   
seemed to come to me. I got used to it.

There were only two bodies found in the cleanup operation -- remarkable thing,   
considering how jam-packed those old rat-traps were -- all the occupants were   
accounted for except for the Luthors and three men with active arrest warrants.   
Since one of the bodies was female, I was thinking Luthors.

Mandatory Public Schooling is a wonderful thing -- only took us two days to pull   
in the son for an I.D.

So that's how I met the future Captain of Industry. He was a real hippie in   
those days, though. Long, messy hair, tight jeans, beads -- the whole deal. He   
sauntered into the morgue like he thought he was Mick Jagger or something. He   
pinched my butt, too, coming in. Pissed the hell out of me. Don't look so   
shocked -- it was pretty damn common in those days, and I was a good-lookin'   
broad in my time.

The father's body was more crushed than burned. Kid looked it over with this   
semi-concealed glee that raised my hackles. Sure, Luthor was a crook -- he'd   
been arrested a hundred times, and even convicted a few -- but a man's got a   
right to not have his son gloat over his corpse, if you ask me. Plus Lionel had   
this winking and bobbing thing going on -- he could have been nervous, I   
suppose, but personally I thought he was high.

So by this point I was pretty much fed up to the back teeth with young Lionel   
Luthor, and I wasn't as considerate of his feelings as I'd been trained to be   
with the general public.

Liza Luthor's body had been blown to pieces. The left arm was pretty much   
intact, and it had a butterfly tattoo just above the wrist. Left hand had a   
ring, too. It was plenty for an I.D. While the kid was still standing over the   
body of his old man, smirking, I brought the tray out of the cooler. I should've   
just uncovered that one arm, leaving the illusion that there might be the rest   
of a woman's body there under the cloth, instead of just a bunch of bits, but I   
was fed up, so I just took the sheet off, picked up the arm, and showed it to   
him.

"Can you I.D. your mother from this, too, kid?" I asked.

He turned around and saw what I had, and the arrogance just drained out of him.   
He went pale, and he suddenly looked his age, which was only fifteen or sixteen,   
like I said. That's when he hurled on my shoes, which I guess I deserved. I   
covered everything back up, and my training kicked back in, and I got him into a   
seat with his head down between his knees.

"How? How?" he kept asking. So much for an easy I.D.

So then without any warning this big bruiser bust into the morgue. Blond, burly   
kid, a couple years older than young Luthor. "Lie!" he called, and he stopped   
short in the doorway when he saw Lionel crunched over in the chair, and the mess   
on the floor. "What did you do?" he started at me, but I don't scare easy, never   
did, and there would've been a confrontation, except Lionel Luthor sat up then,   
and the look on his face could've broken your heart.

"Morg," he said to the thug. "I can't. She... He said she left! You...." He   
turned back to me. "Please. Let him identify her," he said, and put his head   
back down in his lap. I think he was crying, which was a lot more human response   
than I would have expected from him when he first came in.

Okay, I thought. I'm a goddam professional. So I took the big guy's name, which   
was Morgan Edge -- yes, that Morgan Edge, the crime boss. I met two future   
Metropolis legends that day. He identified the female body from the tattoo and   
the ring, which he said he'd recognize anywhere. It was Mrs. Luthor's wedding   
ring, he said, and it was stuck and wouldn't come off. She'd tried to pawn it   
for liquor a hundred times, he said. I could ask any of the neighbors; they all   
would have heard her complain that she couldn't get the damn thing off.

So I thanked him, and filled out the paperwork, and Edge took Lionel outta   
there, practically carrying him. One thing that didn't make it into my report --   
on the way out Edge kept telling Lionel, "Close it off, man, close it off. It's   
worth it, man. Besides, she's better off now anyway, you know it."

Another thing didn't make it into my report (no point in complicating things) is   
that I think, to this day, the woman had been dead for some time before the   
explosion -- at least a week or two. Nobody in the office wanted to hear it;   
they all said I had no basis, but I'd been dealing with the worst of the worst   
of what came through the morgue for five years, and I was too damn tough to use   
mentholatum or wintergreen to mask the smell. In my professional opinion, Liza   
Luthor's body was about two weeks riper than Lachlan's when they brought them   
both in, four days after the explosion. Heh. Not that it mattered. Nobody gives   
a good goddam what happens in Suicide Slum.

***********

Grandville back to Smallville was only a forty-minute drive, twenty-five the way   
Lex usually drove.

Nobody said anything for the first fifteen.

"Well," Clark finally ventured, knowing that anything he came up with was   
probably too obvious for either of the other two to mention, but desperate to   
break the silence. "We know now that Lionel knew Morgan Edge."

"Who the hell took that document out of the Basement Archive?" Chloe   
wondered.

"If it had been Edge, wouldn't he have taken all his criminal records, too?" Clark put in.

"Why would my father have taken it?" Lex wondered aloud. "According to Ms.   
Lamb, it didn't prove anything against him. And I hate to think Dad would've been   
careless enough to leave the cover-sheet behind."

"She didn't seem to think that report would've provided any real information to   
anybody. Just a formality," Chloe mused. "Whoever took it didn't get in touch   
with her, like we did. They didn't hear about Liza being dead weeks earlier; Ms.   
Lamb didn't put it in."

"Well, that report did have both your dad's and Morgan Edge's names in it.   
Wouldn't that be information for somebody? A lead, like," Clark suggested.

Chloe leaned over the back of his seat and stared at him. He wished she'd put   
her seat belt back on and sit back properly, especially since Lex was looking at   
him now, too, instead of at the road. "That could be it," Chloe said   
thoughtfully. "I heard about that place from a reporter; reporters do use it."

"Perry White seemed to have had a big story about your dad at one point. You   
said he pestered you about it when you were at school. And he doesn't seem like   
the kind of guy who'd just obey that 'Do Not Remove Documents from this   
Building' sign," Clark suggested.

"Perry White," Lex spat.

"Do you remember anything specific about what he was after?" Chloe asked.

Lex was silent for a little while. Clark was glad to see that he was paying   
attention to the road. Finally, when they were almost home, he said, "No. I   
don't remember. But if Dad made him drop it somehow, I bet there isn't much   
evidence left for us to find, whatever it was."

"So we can't use it," Chloe said. "Damn!" She sat back in her seat with a thump.

Clark watched Lex drive and think. He wouldn't give up so easily.

"We could try to find out more about your grandparents. I mean, we've leafed   
through all Lachlan's Metropolis criminal records, but he did stuff other   
places, too. Um. He murdered Lana's Great-Aunt Louise. The mayor hired him to   
do it -- well, he hired him to kill the Drifter, who turned out to actually be that   
jerk Jor-El, and the mayor was only a sheriff's deputy at the time...." Clark   
trailed off in confusion.

"Obscure Smallville guy from outer space," Chloe snarked.

"Heh. With occasional visions," Clark admitted, ducking his head.

"Here we are," Lex said, pulling up at the Kents' farmhouse. As he drove away   
towards the Sullivans', Clark noted uneasily that Lex looked like he was   
planning something.

That almost never went well.

***********

The firelight gleamed against Lionel's brandy snifter. This really was the most   
pleasant room in the mansion. He shouldn't let bad memories of Ethan shooting   
him off the balcony like a duck prevent him from enjoying his own damn room.   
Lionel sighed and sipped his brandy. He stretched out on the dark leather sofa,   
dignity and shoes be damned.

It was late. He'd taken Lana home hours ago. He'd never seen anyone as happy as   
she'd been at the Lowell County Courthouse, getting that marriage license.

Lionel himself had never felt so light, so energetic, as he had that afternoon.   
Cyrus was a remarkable boy, another of a series of remarkable boys this sorry   
little town produced.

Should he count Lex in that number?

Should he count himself?

You gotta look at things head-on, Morgan always used to say. Lionel hadn't   
agreed, though even in his youth he'd known better than to directly contradict   
Morgan on anything. He snorted. Always sliding around the edges -- no wonder   
his dad had called him a sneak.

Last one left wins, old man.

Last one left wins, indeed. Lionel swirled the brandy against the crystal and   
contemplated the way it clung. Perhaps he was granting too much weight to a   
passing comment from an angry high-school girl. No, he'd seen it with his own   
eyes. Cyrus hadn't awakened just then by chance. Hell, Lionel had felt it   
himself.

Mutant.

It was a term he'd only consciously applied to the local dangerous lunatics --   
that damn werewolf-boy came immediately to mind. Byron, hadn't his name been   
Byron? He'd been in love with Lana, too, or at least obsessed with her. He   
wasn't the only one; there was information on several more in Lionel's files.

Even Clark Kent, the pick of the litter where Smallville freaks were concerned,   
had been hopelessly devoted to the girl before taking up with Lex. Perhaps he   
still was. Lionel chuckled at the thought of how twisted a situation that might   
turn out to be.

Blunt old Morgan, looking at things head-on, had carved out an underground   
empire based on fists and guns. Lionel, sliding around the edges, had built a   
tower of commerce, visible for miles, visible in the sunlight, but based on the   
same foundation of crime and death that Morgan's was. And yet, Lionel had not   
had to sully his hands with murder more than a scant handful of times over the   
years. Nearly all of them were in the early days. Morgan used to joke about it   
(he used to joke about so many things.) Luckiest bastard that ever lived, Lie,   
they get on your fucking wrong side, and then they crash their fucking cars   
before you can think of them twice.

Morgan was a smart man, too, as well as a ruthless one. What did he do when   
Lionel finally, ultimately, with an invalid's hard-to-kindle rage, really wanted   
him dead on that Metropolis dock? He went over the edge, into the water. Lionel   
took another drink. Water blocks radiation, doesn't it? If there were some   
influence, some connection, between Lionel's mind and the lives of his   
enemies....

Insane. Ridiculous. He'd had too much to drink.

He never liked to think of that damned October day, so far in the past, so far   
the other side of death and loss -- Lex lying there, broken and bloody and bald   
beneath the corn. There was no point in picking him up; he couldn't take the   
child into town on foot. He needed to flag down a car, or a truck, or a goddam   
horse or something.

The meteorites kept falling, intermittently, for almost an hour. Three vehicles   
passed by in that time. None of them stopped. Lionel distracted his mind from   
the horrifying thought of his only legitimate son dying in the dirt of a ruined   
field a million miles from nowhere by planning those drivers' painful deaths.

Finally the Kents had stopped, gathered Lex up (he'd nearly forgotten how afraid   
he'd been that pieces would fall off when the boy was lifted from the ground)   
and taken them into town.

Lex had lived through that. Lex had lived through an unrealistically large   
number of life-threatening situations, including several car crashes.

Morgan died in a car crash, too. To this day there was no explanation of what   
that car had crashed into, but the DNA evidence proved that, despite all   
appearances, it was Morgan's body inside.

When Lionel had re-appropriated Chloe Sullivan's computers, he'd gained access   
to all her crack-brained theories about the meteors. He'd obtained everything   
Dr. Hamilton had left behind, as well, and of course the records from the Level   
Three experiments had always been his.

Fine. Lex was a mutant, difficult to kill. Lionel was a mutant, able to hate   
people into crashing their automobiles. Neither of those was necessarily a   
deleterious mutation.

Smallville was full of mutants. They all, to one degree or another, were in love   
with Lana Lang.

There's nothing as seductive as adoration.

He had to get Lana out of Smallville.

***********

Lex had done some research of his own after dropping off Clark and Chloe. The   
facts they'd dug up in Metropolis and Grandville had given him foundation for   
some wild guesswork of his own.

The assumption that Lex himself had possessed proof of Lionel's crimes before   
being drugged, incarcerated, and elecroshocked led to the notion that Lex might   
have hidden something at some point.

Lex had been checking old stashes (those he remembered) all evening. Clark   
could've done it in no time, he knew now, but somehow he just couldn't bring   
himself to give up the locations to anyone, not even Clark.

Most of the places were empty. Two were much cleaner than he would've left   
them (Lex made a mental note to only conceal things there that he wanted Lionel   
to know about in future.) Finally, behind a loose cinder-block partly covered with   
ivy at the far edge of the employee parking lot at LuthorCorp Plant Number   
Three, Lex found something.

There was a blurry copy of an old personnel record from the WorldWide   
Fertilizer Company. The employee's name was Leo Lechter, but the handwriting   
was Dad's. He'd been dismissed for pilfering. There was also a police complaint   
from the same week, on behalf of the Metropolis Heating and Fuel Oil Company   
against a Michael Edgemont, who had apparently taken a job with them, stolen a   
tanker of fuel oil, and disappeared. Lex didn't know Morgan Edge's handwriting   
offhand, but he was morally certain that it would match when he checked it.   
Lachlan's apartment building had blown sky-high the following week.

It was evidence, rather than proof. He'd undoubtedly had proof before, but there   
was no way it was still around. These had been leads; he'd probably hidden them   
here early on in his investigation, and that's why they'd survived.

Lex put the papers back in their plastic bag and stashed them again. If they'd   
remained intact there through all this, he didn't think he'd be able to come up   
with a safer place.

It was late and cold. The plant was still humming, running overtime to make up   
for that materials foul-up, but there was no one in the parking lot, and he   
didn't really want to talk to anyone anyway. He had to think, and to think he   
had to get some sleep. Motel 6 was holding the room for him all week, but he was   
out of clean clothes. Lex sighed heavily as he opened the door of the Porsche.   
He'd have to stop back at the mansion to pick up a few things.

***********

How'd the snifter get empty again already?

Lionel got up and found he had to take two steps where he should have only   
needed one. He wasn't drunk, just a little out of practice. Any sensible person   
would have cut back on the booze, with a diagnosis of liver trouble.

For a moment, Lionel thought the pale figure, standing so still in the doorway,   
was a ghost.

"Drinking alone, Dad?"

Lionel chuckled, poured brandy, and raised his glass to his son. "Family   
tradition, I'm afraid."

"So I've heard." Lex slunk into the room.

The boy always moved like he was ready to dodge a blow. It was irritating. Men   
didn't move like that; girls moved like that. And how the hell did Lex pick that   
up, anyway? Lionel had never -- well, hardly ever -- laid a hand on the boy. Old   
Lachlan would've broken Lex's neck a dozen times over.

Lex probably would've survived it.

"I'm surprised to see you here, son. I thought you'd found other lodgings. The   
Motel 6 out on Route 8? Or are you bunking with your friend, Clark Kent, now?

Lex drifted to a stop, just out of arm's reach.

"Some associates and I have been investigating. You."

Lionel threw his head back and laughed. Lex didn't even look aggrieved -- just   
tired, and still, and pale.

"And what have you and your little pals discovered?" Lionel stretched out on the   
couch again and sipped from his drink.

***********

Damn his curiosity anyway. Why did he have to investigate that firelight? He   
should have taken his bag and left, but instead he'd looked through a doorway   
and been seen, and now he was stuck.

This was the moment; Lex had to take it on the volley, even though he wasn't   
ready for this yet. He had to make sure that didn't show, though. He didn't   
swallow. He didn't run his hand over his head.

It looked like Lionel had been drinking heavily; that might or might not help.   
Lex wished he could see a way to do this that didn't feel so much like betraying   
his friends.

Lex perched on the edge of the dark wooden armchair across the fire from   
Lionel's sofa. He took just a second to compose himself, and looked directly   
into his dad's mocking eyes.

Start with what the old man didn't know. "You didn't kill your mother."

Was that a microscopic flinch? "Of course, I didn't, Lex. I've never killed   
anybody."

Lex smiled. "It's a matter of public record that you shot a man in the back in   
your office in Metropolis two years ago. The police report called it completely   
justifiable, and said you probably saved Martha Kent's life. Did I ever thank   
you for that?"

Lionel waved his brandy snifter in a negligent manner. "No, no. I mean other   
than that."

"You and Morgan Edge were close in the early sixties. He had a police record   
even then; you seemed to keep a lower profile. You worked together on the   
fuel-oil-and-fertilizer bomb. You cleared the tenement, first, except for   
Lachlan and Liza Luthor."

There was a tiny tremor visible on the surface of the liquid in Lionel's glass.

Lex lowered his voice and leaned in. "You didn't kill your mother, Dad. Lachlan   
did. He'd murdered women before, and Liza had been dead for more than a week   
by the time the building blew, and her body was found."

Lionel closed his eyes and stayed perfectly still. Score! It was regrettable   
that the only way Lex could see to keep himself and his friends safe involved   
letting Lana marry Dad. There simply wasn't enough time or information left to   
do it the right way -- give the old bastard up to the cops or something. This   
would have to do. Clark and Chloe would agree; at the very least they'd be alive   
to flay him about it. He had to keep going with this. If he left it where it   
was, he'd be dead. Clark would be dead. Chloe would be dead.

Hell. Lex decided he'd just pay the best divorce lawyer in Metropolis a yearly   
retainer on Lana's behalf, to salve his stupid conscience. Chloe had actually   
said that Lana had a right to marry whomever she wanted, and Clark would get   
over it. Eventually.

"Look, Dad. I can prove you blew that building." This was a lie. "But some of my   
associates are compassionate people. They feel that if your father murdered your   
mother, then you had some justification for your actions." This was a lie as   
well. "I don't agree with them, but I'm not prepared to go against their   
sentiments in this instance. Just yet."

With his eyes still closed, Lionel said, "You can't prove anything. I have never   
committed a crime."

The mansion was undoubtedly lousy with listening devices. "You conspired with   
Morgan Edge to commit arson. The owner of the building paid you from the   
insurance money. You deliberately got everyone out of the building except your   
low-life, murdering father. I may not be able to prove it, or any of your other   
crimes, beyond a reasonable doubt in a court of law, but I don't need to." Lex   
couldn't stop himself from swallowing nervously, but Lionel didn't see. "I only   
have to be able to prove it to Lana."

Lionel's eyes snapped open, and he surged up from the couch. Lex quickly stood   
and got clear of his chair, giving himself room to maneuver. Lionel glared at   
him silently. Lex desperately tried to hold onto his cool.

"I am not the only person with this information. For once, I have people on my   
side, and not only the ones you think you know about. If you threaten my friends   
or hurt them, or if you hurt me, the evidence all goes straight to Lana. You can   
fire me, or disinherit me, or both. That's not important. But if you lock me up   
again, or if I unexpectedly die in a goddam car crash, your wedded bliss goes up   
in smoke."

Lex made it to the door, keeping his eyes on his father the whole way. He   
grabbed the bag he'd left on the floor there, and fled.

***********

"You're in for a windfall," Chloe told Lex as she came up the steps to Clark's   
loft.

"How's that?" Lex asked, idly stroking Clark's hair. Lex had his laptop out, but   
he wasn't really working on LuthorCorp business. He hadn't been fired yet, but   
he thought it was probably coming any minute, and didn't see much point in   
putting in a lot of effort. Besides, how could he, when Clark was sitting on the   
floor with his back to the sofa and his head at Lex's knee, sticking his tongue   
out in concentration as he worked on an American History essay, and looking so   
adorable?

Chloe dumped her huge bag onto Clark's desk, and took a seat. "Lana told your   
dad that she hates the very idea of a pre-nup -- It's just like planning the   
divorce in advance! -- but that she understands if he feels he has to provide   
for the children he already has."

Lex was impressed by Chloe's spot-on Lana impersonation, complete with earnest   
head-bob.

"The lawyers are setting up Lucas's trust fund today, and you're getting twenty   
million outright, and Plant Number Three."

Lex snorted. "Yeah, that'll be the day."

There was the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Clark got up and stood   
between Lex and the entry to the loft. A man with a shoulder-bag and a clipboard   
came in.

"Is there an Alexander J. Luthor here?" the man asked.

Lex got up from the couch and went to stand next to Clark. "I'm Lex Luthor."

"Not an easy man to find. Delivery for ya. Can I see some ID?"

Lex showed him a driver's license and signed for a thick manila envelope. He   
waited until the man had gone before opening it. "Jeez," he breathed.

"Toldja!" Chloe crowed.

"They don't look like any money I ever saw," Clark put in.

"Bearer bonds. And the deed to the plant. Wow." Lex sank down onto the sofa   
again and examined the papers more closely. Twenty million and Plant Number   
Three -- he needed to hire Gabe back. "What, is he dying?"

"That's just what I said! Lana said not, definitely not, and from the look on   
her face when she told me, I think they Did It."

Ew. "Lana and my dad. I don't want to think about that."

"Oh, no!" Clark cried, sitting down next to Lex (the couch quaked under his   
weight -- maybe that was why he usually sat on the floor) and putting his head   
in his hands. "Now they have to get married!"

Chloe and Lex traded identical looks of fond disbelief over Clark's bowed head.

***********

"Some wedding, huh?"

"That's some dress."

"It's a hideous color."

"I wasn't talkin' about the color. More the, you know...." Pete gestured with   
both hands. Luckily Chloe didn't see him.

"She picked it 'cause it reminded her of her parents. Meteor-rock green."

Chloe and Pete, seated on a sofa in the Talon, both took another drink. The   
leftover champagne was the big reason they'd volunteered to clean up after the   
reception.

"I sure wish I could've talked her out of it."

"Huh?" Pete said, dragging his gaze up from the upper edge of Chloe's green dress.

Fortunately, she was pouring champagne, and it took most of her attention.   
"Lana. Married the devil today. Poor Lana." Chloe had another drink.

Pete snorted champagne out his nose. There was a short interval in the   
conversation.

When he could speak again, Pete said, "I've known Lana since we were babies. If   
anybody can handle Old Bastard Luthor, it's her. And how weird is it that she   
made Clark give her away? Henry Small lives right here in town."

"How weird is it that Lex was his dad's Best Man?"

"What does it say about a ceremony..."

"A solemn, civil, ceremony -- your Mom did a great job..."

"Yeah, that Clark and Lex waltzing..."

"In matching tuxedoes," Chloe put in.

"That Clark and Lex, waltzing, in matching tuxedoes, at the reception is only,   
like, the third weirdest thing about it?"

"Maybe fourth."

"Or even fifth."

They drank some more.

"What do you suppose -- Do you suppose it means anything, that Clark was   
leading?" Chloe wondered.

"I don't want to think about it."

"Good idea."

They had another drink, looked at the mess, and drank some more. The Talon   
wasn't going to re-open until Monday anyhow.

"You know," Pete said, "I always kinda figured I'd end up with Lana."

"Huh. I always figured I'd end up with Clark."

"Damn those Luthors."

"Yeah!"

They clinked glasses, then had another drink.

"You wanna make out?"

"Yeah, okay."

THE END

Epilogue:

Lionel and Lana were very happy together. He took her with him all over the   
world, and they never went back to Smallville. She gave him four daughters in   
six years. The girls were the joy of his life and the bane of his existence.   
Each and every one of them could twist him around her little finger with a look.

Lionel had thought that Lex's teenage years had been bad (and they had!) but   
that was nothing compared to the year that Laci, Lena, Letitia and Lenore were   
nineteen, seventeen, fifteen and thirteen respectively. It was a wonder he   
survived, but he did, and a few years after that they started giving him   
grandchildren, which made absolutely everything worthwhile.

Lex and Clark got married right after Clark's graduation from Met U. (After all,   
they had to.) Clark Kent became a mild-mannered reporter for the Boston Globe,   
and Lex concentrated on LexCorp International for a few years before diving into   
East Coast politics. By the time Superman had saved the world four times, Lex   
was Governor of Massachusetts, and Clark and his driven high-strung partner,   
Rory Gilmore, had won a Pulitzer.

Chloe got one of those, too, unexpectedly, when she and her cousin Lois, working   
for different papers and from completely different angles, combined to uncover   
an actual alien plot to take over the world. Superman saved them, and saved the   
world (his second time, although nobody really knew about the first one), and   
the Sullivan-Lane team shared the prize.

Pete went back to Smallville after college, worked for the town government in   
various capacities, and ended up becoming Mayor. Eventually he went on to the   
Kansas State Legislature, and then after a while he ran for Governor of Kansas   
and won. During the huge catastrophe involved in Superman's saving the world   
for the fourth time, he met up with Lex and Chloe again, for the first time in   
years. Once all the panic died down (and Clark showed up again, glasses and   
aw-shucks mannerisms firmly back in place), the Smallville four realized they   
were still friends. Lex and Pete decided that if either of them ever decided to   
run for President, the other could be Vice. Pete and Chloe decided they should   
see a lot more of each other, since they both officially still lived in Kansas.   
Eventually they got married, too.

And they all lived happily ever after.


	2. Three Weddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 3 weddings mentioned in "And They All Lived Happily Ever After".

So, the Wednesday100 theme one time was "weddings." Here are the three weddings from "And They All Lived Happily Ever After."

********************  
********************

For the second time in as many weeks, Lex tied Lionel's bow-tie. His hands were shaking. Lionel chuckled. "Relax, Lex. Anyone would think **you** were getting married."

OOOO

"Here. Let me..."

Lana graciously bent to her friend's ministrations. Chloe looked beautiful in green silk, but Lana was even lovelier in dazzling white. Lana studied them both in the mirror and smiled. "Perfect."

OOOO

"May I have this dance?"

Lex looked around the Talon. "Here?"

"Everybody else is. I get to lead, okay?"

The tension in Lex's chest unknotted itself, and he felt warm for the first time all day. "I'd be delighted."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Hi, Mom."

"Sweetie!" Martha covered the receiver. "Honey, it's Clark!"

"Graduation is Thursday..."

"Wouldn't miss it!"

"And, um, I start at the _Boston Globe_ July nineteenth."

"Not the _Planet_?"

"No. Um. That's the other thing. Um..."

Jonathan came in, wiping his hands. "What's he saying?"

Martha waved him quiet.

"Um. We're getting married. Two o'clock June seventeenth at Boston City Hall and I hope you guys can make it." The last words were so rushed Martha barely understood them.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"He and Lex are getting married!"

Jonathan took the phone. "Congratulations, son! We'll be there with bells on!"

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Governor-elect Pete Ross married _Inquisitor_ reporter Chloe Sullivan at St. Bartholomew's Saturday afternoon. The guest-list ranged from UFO-ologists to statesmen, and included some of the country's richest men.

"Chloe Sullivan is the bravest, finest woman I know. I don't foresee any conflicts between my gubernatorial duties and her career," said the dapper politico.

The new Mrs. Ross, resplendent in a vintage Chanel suit and matching pillbox, said, "Lois, get that tape-recorder outta my face, or I swear to God I'll clock you with it!"

Congratulations, Mr. Governor, and Best Wishes, cuz!

Editorial Note: Chloe Sullivan-Ross is reporter Lois Lane's cousin.


	3. First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

A/N: Immediately follows Three Weddings. Written for the livejournal community fanfic100 challenge prompt "Sunrise."

The wedding had been perfect, small and hastily-arranged though it had been. Lana didn't think that old warning "Marry in haste; repent at leisure" should apply to Lionel and her. True, they'd only met two weeks before, but they'd been waiting for each other their whole lives!

She rolled over, ignoring the unaccustomed twinges from her bridal night, and smiled at her husband, still asleep as the early-morning sunlight kissed red-gold glints from his long tangled hair. Urbane and brilliant every moment of the day, waking Lionel was nevertheless an obvious tough guy, a hard man, like one of those warlords the newspaper sometimes talked about. Lana had glimpsed the vulnerability beneath his strength - when he'd told her about the cancer (thank God for Cyrus Krup!) and once or twice besides. When he was sleeping, though, anyone could have seen it.

Lana reached out and brushed his hair off of his face. He woke up and blinked at her.

"Mine," she smiled.


	4. Year One of Liona Wedded Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I really do ship Liona.

A/N: Written for the livejournal community fanfic100 challenges "Club" and "Moon." These follow the "Sunrise" one and precede "Daddy's Little Girl."

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Country Club set had seen almost nothing of Lionel Luthor since Lillian's death. The socialites of Metropolis were therefore all abuzz when, shortly after his second wedding, to a small-town nobody of whom nobody had ever heard ("He's gotten himself another heir!" tongues wagged wisely) word went round that Mr. and Mrs. Luthor would be attending the Spring Ball.

Society beauties of seasons past put on their diamond earrings and their finest gowns, envied by the younger women who'd only heard the stories. (None of Lex's earring-giftees frequented such lofty social circles.) The night itself found Lionel quite surrounded by ardent admirers, their husbands and significant others abandoned to what comfort they could find among the cigars and stock-market conversation on the terrace.

Try as they might, though, the ladies couldn't seem to secure the magnate's attention. He searched the ballroom anxiously, finally fixing his gaze on a tiny dark-haired girl descending the staircase from the 'tiring rooms above. He advanced to meet her, ignoring his devotees' delicately-phrased complaints.

"Do you like it, my dear?" he asked.

Lana drew the daintily lethal pearl-handled revolver from her silver mesh evening bag. "Oh, Lionel!" she declared, darting a tiny threatening gaze at her erstwhile rivals and then returning adoring big brown eyes to her husband's smiling face. "I love it! How did you know?"

The ladies of the country club left Lionel alone after that.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The moon reflected a path of beaten silver from the world's edge to the rocky shore. The fishy smell and the gentle honking of the roosting penguins drifted up to fill the soft night air. Laci was a warm limp weight, asleep on Lana's shoulder, and Lionel was a warm whiskery solid presence at her back. They shared a divan on the prettiest terrace of the most perfect seaside lodge in New Zealand, and Lana was perfectly content.

"Oh, Lionel," she sighed, rolling her head slightly against his shoulder, "this is lovely."

"Mmm," he murmured, half-asleep himself, "not half as lovely as you."

Lana smiled, delighted at the flattery. "You always say the most perfect things." Lionel's arm around her waist tightened for just a moment. She loved his strength, and she loved the way he kept it restrained around her and their child. Lana shifted her baby a little, to an even more perfectly comfortable position. "You know," she whispered, half to her daughter and half to herself, "when I was little, I was afraid of penguins."

Lionel chuckled and stirred a little behind her, but Lana cut him off before he could begin. "As Daddy will undoubtedly tell you many times --" Lana lowered her voice and exaggerated her diction in imitation of her husband's "-- you must always face your fears and overcome them." Lionel's quiet laughter shook his whole body, and Lana's and Laci's bodies, slightly. Lana felt pure happiness bubbling up all through her - so much happiness that she felt she could say things she'd never said out loud before.

"When my parents were killed, I had just started preschool. That first Christmas vacation with just me and Aunt Nell was..." Lana sighed. "Well, it was hard," she whispered. Lionel was asleep now, she thought, but he and Laci were still right here with her, perfect and warm and real as the moonlight on the water, the sounds of the penguins and the waves.

"She took me to the zoo," Lana reminisced. "I think she thought she ought to, and I thought I ought to enjoy it, because she wanted me to -- the last thing my mother ever told me was to be good for Auntie Nell, and I was; I always tried anyway. I remember the elephants and the lions -- big fierce animals they talked about at preschool, but they were far away and not doing much -- they didn't scare me at all. Penguins, though -- they were supposed to be small and cute, like those Little Blue Penguins we saw today, but the Met Zoo had Emperors, bigger than I was then, and only separated from the people by a pane of glass. One came right up to where I was standing, and barfed up all these little whole dead fish! I couldn't back up from it either, because of the crowd, and I was so freaked!" Lana laughed ruefully.

Lionel squeezed her again, awake after all. "And now you're fine."

"And now I'm fine," she agreed, twisting around to face him. "Let's go to bed."


	5. Daddy's Little Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (written because this old Mills Brothers song won't leave me alone)
> 
> I don't own the rights to any of the characters, or the song. At all. This is just for fun. A million thanks to Raijahn for the image of Lionel patting Lana on the head and calling her "little bunny".

Daddy's Little Girl (a coda to "And They All Lived Happily Ever After)  
by LastScorpion

8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8

"Waaaah!"

Lana started awake on the sofa and moved to get up. Lionel put down his newspaper and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Lionel," Lana began. She pushed a limp lock of hair back from her forehead, and looked up at him imploringly.

Lionel changed his mind about suggesting they let Lena cry herself back to sleep. "It's all right, little bunny. I'll get her. You try to get some more sleep. Do you think you could eat something?"

Lana shook her head, a tight little motion tinged with the memory of all the day's vomiting. Lionel patted her comfortingly on the head and went to take care of his daughter.

As he changed and fed and burped his youngest child, he couldn't help remembering Julian, dead now these fifteen years. It hurt, and Lionel's mind, accustomed since earliest childhood to the avoidance of pain, automatically riffled his memory for more comfortable thoughts.

Long ago in Suicide Slum, just the other side of the paper-thin tenement walls, there had lived an illiterate cab driver and his daughter. The wife was dead or run off or something, but the man and his girl seemed happy. They'd had a record player, and sometimes they would even sing together. Lionel used to listen and pretend he belonged to that family. He never spoke to the girl at school or on the street; even in those days he'd known that his emotional attachment to her and her father was a weakness that must never be revealed to anyone. But even after all these years, he still knew all the Mills Brothers songs by heart, and he sang Lena back to sleep with one.

_You're the end of the rainbow,  
My pot of gold.  
You're Daddy's Little Girl,  
To have and to hold.  
You're sugar, you're spice,  
You're everything nice,  
And you're Daddy's Little Girl._

Lionel put the baby in the crib, and stood straight and stretched. He eased his shoulders and cricked his neck, and then he saw in the doorway, like an envious ghost, Lex standing and watching them with hungry eyes.

Damnation.

"Lex," Lionel greeted his eldest child. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

Upon being acknowledged, Lex slid into the room. He oiled on over to Lena's bedside, and stroked the downy infant cheek with the back of one knuckle.

Lionel forcibly restrained himself from physically separating them. Lex didn't kill Julian; he knew that now. It was ingrained in Lionel's bones and nerves, though, that Lex had. He supposed it was ingrained in Lex as well, that Lionel had always blamed him for it.

Damnation indeed.

In the little pink bed in the corner opposite the crib, Laci sat up and rubbed her eyes. Lionel was pleased to see that, although she routinely slept through Lena's upsets, a strange man in the nursery woke her. "Daddy? Who's that?" She spoke very clearly for a three-year-old.

Lex gazed appraisingly at him, a little smile quirking at his scarred lip, obviously wondering what Lionel would find to say to his daughter. Always daring, always challenging -- well, he supposed he had only himself to blame for that.

"He's your half-brother, sweetie. We're just going out to talk business for a while. Go back to sleep."

"What's his name?"

Unexpectedly, Lex crouched down next to the little girl's bed, putting their faces more on a level. "I'm Lex. What's your name?"

"Laci."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Laci."

Laci's eyes were watchful. She was a Luthor through and through. Lionel thought he saw the same thought reflected on Lex's face.

"Your mother and I used to run a coffee shop together," Lex added.

"The Talon?" Laci asked. Lana told stories about the Talon sometimes.

"That's right." Lex smiled at her, and Laci smiled back. The smiles were disturbingly similar. Fortunately, Lionel didn't believe in premonitions.

Lionel stood in the doorway with his hand on the knob. "Go back to sleep, Laci," he repeated. "Lex?"

Lex got up. "Good night," he told his sister.

"Good night," she answered. Lionel could see her speculative eyes glinting in the night-light as he ushered Lex out of the room.

In the study, he busied himself with the decanters and glasses. "It's Scotch, isn't it?" he said, offering Lex a drink.

Lex looked at the glass, and then at Lionel, in a pointed manner. He did not reach to take it. Childish. Lionel felt his temper start to slip, and reminded himself to tread carefully. That wasn't why he'd called him here. Lionel set the glass back down on the bar and drank from his own snifter of brandy.

After a minute or two of silence, Lex finally said, "What can I do for you this evening, Dad?"

Lionel quashed the little sense of triumph (Hah! Made the pup speak first!) as firmly as he'd done the earlier anger. "Please. Have a seat." He gestured Lex to a leather armchair by the fireplace and settled himself in the one facing it.

Refusing the glass had left Lex with nothing to do with his hands. He steepled his fingers together and leaned back insouciantly in his armchair.

"I see from the Business Section that LexCorp is doing well," Lionel opened.

Lex just looked at him. Suddenly he seemed tired. "What do you want?"

Lionel set his glass on the end table. He was going to have to reveal more to Lex than he liked, but he'd thought out every other option, and this was the best one. "I'd like to hand over the reins of LuthorCorp to you."

Lex continued to just look at him. This time it was Lionel who broke the silence. "I find that my family and business obligations are in conflict. With... With one thing and another, Lana needs my help here at home. With the girls, and the new baby on the way."

Lex continued to observe. Lionel knew he could outwait his son, but he wasn't sure that it would be the best thing to do. He'd never been able to predict Lex's reactions as well as he should have.

Finally Lex spoke again. "I saw you just now. Singing. Why doesn't Lana hire a nanny to help out?"

"None of them will stay more than a week or two. I can't think why."

Lex smiled. "She used to have the same problem with waitresses." He abruptly stood. "Thanks for the offer, Dad, but no. Give my regards to Lana and Laci."

"Lex!"

Lex stopped in the doorway and grudgingly turned back. Lionel could see that he didn't have long to convince him to take the post. "Son, this isn't a test or a trick. You know that I've always meant for you to take over the company when I... After me. LuthorCorp is your destiny."

Lex wanted it; Lionel could see that. Then, suddenly, he couldn't read Lex's face at all. "Thanks but no thanks, Dad. I know my way out."

Time to up the ante a little. Lionel got up and approached his son, leaving his glass behind. "I mean it, Lex. I want you to have the company. You can even fold the assets into LexCorp, if you want. A merger."

Lionel could see Lex still trying to figure out where the catch was. He sighed and waited.

"You'll understand if I find that a little unlikely, Dad. The LuthorCorp name is very important to you."

"I made it something to be respected."

"I suppose that's true enough. So why would you ever be willing to let me change your company's name to LexCorp?"

"I gave you that name, too, you know, Lex."

"And I made it something to be respected."

"Eventually." Damnation. Too far. It was just so damn natural to snipe at the boy. Lionel was sure girls would be easier.

"What about Lana and your daughters? Why would you give the company to me when you have them to provide for?" Lex was granting the possibility of his proposal, at least as a topic for discussion. Good!

"LuthorCorp isn't all that I have. They'll inherit plenty regardless." Lionel didn't bother to hide his pride. Lex might be the only man living who knew where Lionel had come up from, and what he'd done on his way. Was it perverse to be pleased, that his boy not only knew he'd started as a parricidal street punk, but also that Lex had discovered that dark secret in spite of all Lionel had done to conceal it? Maybe. Lionel smiled. "Besides, I know that Clark would never let you let them starve."

Lex's face softened just for a fraction of a second at his husband's name; then it was as unreadable as before. He wasn't leaving, though.

After a long moment, Lex swallowed. Lionel hid his triumphant glee. He'd prevailed.

"Have your attorneys draw up your proposal and send it over. I'll give it a look." Lex nodded politely, distantly, and left.

Lionel certainly hoped that girls would be easier.


	6. Blue

After watching the latest episode of Smallville, PepperjackCandy has decided to 'ship Liona too! She told me about it, and I remembered that I'd never put up the rest of these.

For the the fanfic100 topic "Blue":

Laci was almost four; Lena one-and-a-half; Letitia was brand-new.

Lana kept bursting into tears.

Lionel couldn't bear remembering how Lillian had been with Julian, but he daren't ignore it again. So Lionel hovered; he watched all his girls like a hawk, and never left Lana alone for a moment.

"Lionel!" Lana finally exclaimed, dressing Laci for preschool. "I'm over twenty-one, you know! I can do this!"

Lionel couldn't look her in the eye. "You've been so upset, lately..."

She caught his chin with a baby-powder-scented hand, smiled, and made him face her. "We're all right. It's just the baby blues."


	7. Rain

for the fanfic100 topic "Rain":

Lana fell back into the armchair and put her aching feet up on the hassock. Lionel swept magnificently in from the nursery. He looked almost as tired as she felt. What with Lex being Lex, and there having been only one of him, Lana was pretty sure that rainy days in Metropolis had never been as hard on her husband the first time he was a father. Ordinarily she tried to shield him from the girls' rambunctious antics, but being eight months pregnant had slowed her way, way down. Lionel had taken up the slack - Laci's first-grade teacher had expressed a little concern about her new idiosyncratic way of looking at the myths and fairy tales they'd been reading in class. Fortunately, vacation had started almost immediately afterwards.

"How are you, m'dear?" Lionel asked her. He settled himself onto the hassock and started rubbing her feet.

"You are the best husband ever, did you know that?" Lana smiled.

She loved his low, knowing chuckle. "You are the only person who would ever think so."

"Mmmm, that's nice. And I'm the only person who has to think so!" she added in fake indignation.

Laci came in. "Thank goodness those little girls have finally settled down!" she declared decidedly. Laci had never been one for naps. "What are we going to do now?"

Lionel and Lana looked at each other.

0o0o0o0o0

"Those little girls" woke up an hour later. Laci scurried away, trailing hair ribbons, to boss them around some more, and Lana heaved herself up out of the armchair to make dinner. Lionel stooped to give her a hand up. She couldn't help giggling.

"You're adorable with your hair in pigtails. You should wear it like that all the time."

Lionel snorted and kissed her on the forehead. "Men have died for less."

"Best husband ever!" she threw back at him as she left the room.

"You'll convince me yet!" he replied, and went to stop Laci from putting the baby in the hamper.


	8. Towel Day in the Lionaverse

Written for DancesWithGary's May 25 Towel Day Challenge:

 

The littlest Luthor was trouble from Day One - a breech presentation, she was the only one of Lana's daughters to require more than fifteen hours of labor.

Secretly, Lionel thought she was the most like Lex.

Lana thought she was the most like Lionel.

When she was three years old, Lenore managed to sneak away from her parents and sisters (who watched one another like vengeful tattle-tales, at all hours of the day and night) on a weekend outing to the Metropolis Museum of Fine Art. It was a day crowded with incident, including Lionel firing the entire museum security staff and Lana fainting dead away (possibly as a ruse to distract her husband from the unwanted realization that he actually couldn't fire the entire museum security staff).

That was the first time (but far, far from the last) that she was saved by Superman. Even he was purely unable to explain quite how his youngest (secret) sister-in-law had managed to climb twenty-five feet up into the heating/ventilation ductwork, but he was the one who heard her and got her out, and returned her to the bosom of her loving family.

Laci, Lena, and Letitia all scolded her viciously, but Lana swept her up into her arms, and Lionel embraced them both. Dozens of photographers got the shot.

After that day, though, she stubbornly refused to answer to Lenore. Her favorite stories were, bizarrely enough, Edgar Allen Poe rather than Greek Mythology or even Brothers Grimm (she taught herself to read at the age of two, just like Lex had done), and she stoutly maintained that she wasn't Lost Lenore! She demanded to be known as Lorraine (realizing herself that somehow all Luthor names started with L) since that was her favorite quiche.

Over the years (A Luthor Never Backs Down! had seemingly been incorporated into Lenore's psyche in utero) she never changed her mind, and gradually her mother and sisters came to see things her way. Lionel never did, though, and called his youngest daughter Lenore until his dying day.

The other change that her jaunt in the ductwork wrought was that Lenore (Lorraine!) started a routine of stalking the housekeeper on laundry days, and stealing one of the big towels as soon as they came out of the dryer. She'd tie it around her neck and swoop around the premises, "saving" the soft toys and declaring herself SuperLorraine. Fortunately, Laci took no time at all to convince the middle girls that this pastime was babyish rather than cool, so there was only one little girl crashing around like a lunatic rather than four. Lana thought it was funny, but she still mostly managed to limit the SuperLorraine Hour to times when Lionel was out.

Lenore (Lorraine!) kept up the game for six years, until she figured out for herself that Superman was actually Lex's dorky husband Clark. After that, it just seemed silly.


	9. Career Day in the Lionaverse

For the fanfic100 topic "Square":

Laci had been gloating to her little sisters about Career Day all week. Her parents were indulgent about it, and about the inevitable tiny revenges that Lena, Letitia and Lenore wrought in turn. The day arrived, and the family set off to school, Lana (as Laci's Room Mom) bearing Lemon Squares, and Lionel wearing the kind of suit that had long terrified his business rivals.

A dozen parents lined the back of the room, politely applauding their peers' presentations. Ms. Havermeier reached the L's. "Now Laci's mom, Mrs. Luthor, will tell us about running a coffee-shop!"

Lionel laughed and laughed.


	10. Giant Ants Crossover

This one makes more sense if you know that, for a while in the Silver Age of the comics, Lana Lang was also The Insect Queen. (It makes even more sense if you've read my Lana Lang and the Giant Krypto-Ants drabbles at the wednesday100 over the years. Many of them are in "The Darn Drabbles" here.)

For the fanfic100 topic "Storm":

The engine struggled to turn over, then failed. His next turn of the key didn't even produce a clicking noise.

"I'll have everyone at the National Weather Service killed," Lionel fumed.

Lana privately thought he was being a little optimistic. The Mercedes was a wonderful car, but it had proved no match for the completely unpredicted blizzard. Their scenic late fall drive home from St. Louis had turned into a death trap. Lionel had tied a red cloth to the antenna; they'd been running the heater ten minutes every hour; huddling together for warmth was a given. But the blizzard had overtaken them yesterday, as far as Lana could tell, and if the engine was finished then they were too. It was just a matter of time. She snuggled closer to her husband, comforted to think that she wouldn't have to die alone.

"At least the girls are safe at home," she whispered.

Lionel's arms tightened around her. "We'll be fine," he said fiercely. "We can't be more than an hour from Metropolis, and this storm won't last forever. There will be people here before you know it. Or I could go for help."

"No!" Lana was _not_ going to let him abandon her. "We're in this together. Either we _both_ stay with the car, or we both go out and get disoriented and freeze to death in that darn blizzard!"

The wind howled. It was very cold. Lana felt as if the only warmth in the world was here with them, slowly ebbing out from their cocoon of woolen coats.

Eventually, Lionel cleared his throat and hugged her more closely to him. "Lex will see them well provided-for. I'm sure of it."

Lana gave up hope.

Suddenly the car moved. The blizzard continued to rage outside, but some unseen _thing_ was pulling and shifting at their vehicle! Lana clung to her husband, eyes wide with fright. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," he quietly admitted.

The car moved jerkily out from under the snow bank that had built up around it. An eerie green glow was dimly visible through the ice-encrusted windows. Strange skritching noises and an unearthly humming could be heard under the roar of the storm, and it felt like they were moving fast towards Metropolis. Less than an hour later, they were deposited somewhere out of the wind. The noise of the storm was greatly diminished; the other strange sounds stopped; the glow disappeared. Lionel opened the door and found they were in the lee of a Denny's restaurant at the edge of town. There were lights and people inside. They were saved!

Lana didn't mention she'd seen the face of a giant ant peering in at her.


	11. Diamonds

For the fanfic100 topic "Diamond":

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Mother, it worked!"

Lana turned gracefully from her canvas and smiled at her oldest girl. "Of course it did."

Laci extended her left hand, and Lana obligingly examined the flawless ¾-carat diamond ring. "It's lovely," she sighed. "Carl Brubaker is a real catch."

"The wedding's tomorrow, at City Hall." A tiny shadow of a frown tinged Laci's brow. "I don't know why Carl's in such a hurry now, after putting me off for so long!"

Lana chuckled, wrinkling her nose cutely. "Did he seem nervous?"

"Petrified!" Lana kept laughing quietly, and Laci added, "Mother, I know you said that Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, but what exactly did you _do_?"

Lana reached up and unhooked the diamond earrings she'd given her daughter just before the girl's recent visit to her half-brother in Metropolis. "Me? Nothing. Don't let Daddy see these, by the way, until after the wedding."

Laci blinked cutely at her mother in confusion. "I don't understand," she admitted.

"Well, sweetie, both Lex and Lionel know exactly what earrings like these mean! But an elected official has certain limits, and besides, Lex married into the Kent family fifteen years ago –- his first thought was a shotgun wedding. If Daddy had seen these diamond earrings, Carl would be dead. You can't marry a dead man!" Lana explained cheerfully.

Laci's eyes got big and round. And people said her father was scary!


	12. Circle

Written for the fanfic100 challenge topic "Circle"

8080808080808080808

"I'll ruin him," Lionel said quietly, venomously.

Lana poured another cup of tea. She'd known for many years now that the best way to break the news of any of her daughters' romantic entanglements was while on vacation, hopefully at least an ocean away from the prospective suitor. How many of Lena's beaus had died in fiery automobile crashes before she'd figured it out – four? Five?

"Now, sweetheart…" she began.

"She's underage!"

Lana just blinked at him. Lionel must have been really wound up; he didn't even look abashed. "She's seventeen," Lana said distinctly. "She wants to marry him."

"He's twice her age!"

"He's twenty-eight, and he loves her. Letitia has a good head on her shoulders. Shouldn't you trust a Luthor's sense of self-interest?" That may have come out a trifle sharper than she'd intended.

Lionel looked away from her; he seemed really upset now, not just enraged. Lana curbed her own anger and asked him gently, "What's really bothering you?"

"I thought there was more time before she was grown up."

She stroked his hair and made him face her. She looked deep into his eyes and told him the obvious truth. "She's the same age I was when I married you. Circle of life, Lionel."


	13. Crossover with X-Men

(There was a Wednesday100 prompt "These are not the mutants you are looking for." Crossover with X-Men.)

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Lex wasn't a good judge of character, but experience had finally taught him to detect people who wished him harm.

Senator Robert Kelly made his flesh creep.

Lionel kept track of krypto-mutants; Cyrus's attentions were keeping him alive, after all, and the others might prove equally useful. Lex kept track of Lionel, and Lana's little girls (who loved their elder brother) helped Clark keep Luthor family peace.

So Lex called his dad.

Later, in the Senate chambers, Lex introduced "an artist from my hometown".

Kyle Tippett shook Senator Kelly's hand. "These aren't the mutants you're looking for. Let it go."


	14. The End of One Thing

Title: The End of One Thing  
Fandom: Smallville  
Character: Lana Lang  
Prompt: 3. Ends  
Word Count: 163  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: The penultimate Liona story

"It has been said that my husband's funeral would be attended by powerful men, and kings, but not by true friends and family." Lana's voice was clear, and her face composed. She'd cried her fill at the hospital, carefully out of Lionel's sight. Having outlived poor Cyrus Krup (died of dehydration and exposure in the Peruvian Highlands, hunting for alien artifacts) Lionel had finally succumbed to another recurrence of the liver cancer that he'd been dodging for thirty years. Lana smiled at President Lex Luthor's fleeting expression of discomfort and moved on. "I look around at his children and grandchildren, our in-laws, associates, and yes, friends, and I'm happy to say that prediction never came to pass. There are certainly powerful men among you, and even kings - princes anyway -" Here she paused to wrinkle her nose adorably at Lorraine's latest beau "- but I don't think anyone could deny that Lionel Luthor died surrounded by love. He will be missed."


	15. And the Middle of Another

Title: And the Middle of Another  
Fandom: Smallville  
Character: Lana Lang  
Prompt: 2. Middles  
Word Count: 455  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: And the last. :-D

The funeral was over; the guests were gone. It was late.

As the president's stepmother, Lana should have had to evade Secret Service in order to leave the penthouse for a solitary walk. Lionel had made short work of the T-Men three years ago, though, and Lex had directed them to leave the Luthors alone.

The dark streets of Metropolis held no dangers for Lana. She'd improved her unarmed combat skills when the girls started school; she always went armed (Lionel had adored taking her shooting); not even the craziest junkie in Lionel's city would dare look cross-eyed at his widow anyway. Some of the street people and hoodlums inhabiting the wild urban darkness even muttered their condolences, and she smiled prettily and thanked them and knew that here, too, were people she'd never had before.

The massive wrought-iron gates at the Metropolis Memorial Park were locked, of course. She picked them quickly and efficiently (it was the sixth thing he'd taught her) and put her lockpicks carefully back through the bun she wore at her neck – Lionel had loved to watch her unwind it, let her hair down for him at the end of each day.

She didn't mind that he was buried so near his first wife's tomb, not really. Their baby was there, too, little Julian whom she'd never met. A man shouldn't be buried alone, and she wasn't ready to join him yet. Lana settled herself gracefully on the granite bench next to her husband's grave (she wasn't as young as she used to be, and she knew she'd regret having to sit on the ground all the time.)

"Hi, sweetheart. I missed you today.

I thought you'd live forever, you know, that you'd be the one to never leave me behind. I know you would have if you could. But I think of the lonely girl I was when you married me, and then I look around – you gave me thirty wonderful years. You gave me four beautiful daughters, and their husbands, and their husbands' families, and our grandchildren. You gave me Lex and that crazy nut Lucas, and Clark, really, in a way I didn't have Clark before. I have all these relatives now, and considering the way Lena keeps having babies, I'll never run out! I'll never be alone again. You did that for me.

I'll always love you. I'll come see you whenever I can. I'm only forty-seven, though. I kind of hate to say it, but I know you wouldn't be mad. I'm not going to stop living my life. This is the end for you and I'll miss you every day, but for me this is more like the middle.

I love you, Lionel. Good-bye."


End file.
